


You're My King and I'm Your Lionheart

by JustLikeInMyDream



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/M, Now Complete!, Romantic Fluff, Songfic, Teenage Drama, love and war, teenage love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2020-07-19 09:38:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 51,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19971922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustLikeInMyDream/pseuds/JustLikeInMyDream
Summary: Hermione decided to stay at Hogwarts during the Christmas holidays this year seeing as she's finding it much too difficult to stay at the Burrow as previously planned. Her friendship with Ron is frayed, and it's putting some strain on the Golden Trio. Draco was also staying, seeing as his parents all but forced him to stay and work on Voldemort's demand. Ultimately, a strange but wonderful thing blossoms between them. DHr; HBP - DH.





	1. One - The Unknown

_sooner or later it all comes around,_   
_hopefully then I will see_   
_after the people and places are gone_   
_you will come back,_   
_you will come back to me_   
_to me_   
_to me_

It was raining.

Christmas was around the corner and the Golden Trio had never been more divided. With Ron Weasley’s new found confidence from being Gryffindor’s “King” and his tongue constantly shoved down Lavendar Brown’s throat, Hermione Granger did not wish to attend Christmas at the Weasley family home in Ottery St. Catchpole. Harry Potter was moping because Ginny Weasley was constantly around his roommate, Dean Thomas. One day he had walked up to dorm after lunch to get his stupid Potions book and found the pair making out on Dean’s bed.

(What a knife to the heart.)

“Are you sure, Hermione? We could be miserable together.” Harry tried talking her out of it for the umpteenth time that week, but she stood firm.

“Harry, I do not feel like sharing the holidays with someone I cannot stand. Besides, it’s been a few years since I’ve spent Christmas with my parents. I’m sure they would love to spend time with me,” she said over her breakfast oatmeal.

However at that very moment, an owl dropped a letter in front of her plate from her parents. The disappointment etched itself in her face. They had already made plans with Jean’s sister in France. Before school had started, they asked her if she was going to spend the holidays with Harry and Ron, and she had said yes. _Too little, too late_ , Hermione frowned.

“What’s that?” The female redhead sat down across from Harry and Hermione with her boyfriend.

“A letter from my parents. They already have plans so I’m going to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas,” she said stiffly, shoving the letter back in the envelope. Harry suddenly found his water goblet incredibly fascinating.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, Mione.” Ginny said, reaching over to pat her friend’s hand. “I understand that you don’t want to come with us because of Won-Won and his Lav-Lav.” Her nose scrunched up in distaste. “We’ll miss you.”

Hermione pushed away her bowl and stood up. “I have to get to class. I’ll see you later, Harry, bye Ginny, Dean.” She hurried out of the Great Hall, but not before she ran into the one person she most did not want to see.

“Oh, hey Hermione, how’s it going?” Ron asked, his arm wrapped around Lavendar.

She pushed past them, her book bag banging against her hip, her hair swinging back and forth as she stomped away. Hermione had arrived to Ancient Runes five minutes early, but but she pleasantly found the classroom already open. Professor Babbling was nowhere to be found, so she plopped down in the desk closest to the door and shoved her face into her hands.

Should she feel this much betrayal from her best friend? Obviously she likes him, it’s been that way _for_ _years,_ but he has never picked up her hints. Third year when Buckbeak “died,” fourth year with the Yule Ball, fifth year with late nights during Dumbledore’s Army, and even this year when she tried to make him jealous while using Cormac McLaggen.

(Guess he really _does_ have the emotional range of a teaspoon.)

She heard the door slam shut and jolted up. Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe.

“Sorry, didn’t know anyone else would be here this early.” He muttered, moving to sit in his seat across the aisle.

Hermione shook her head, noticing his paler-than-normal face and disheveled uniform. “No problem. I just needed. . .to get out of the Great Hall.”

“Not so comfortable with the Weasel and Brown sucking face, are you?” He smirked as he pulled his book, parchment, and quill out of his bag.

Hermione shook her head and took a deep breath before mimicking his movements. “It’s gross.”

“Anyone sucking face is gross.”

“You’re just jealous that Ron can actually get a girl, Malfoy.”

He fell quiet, leading her to believe she said something that rubbed him the wrong way. This probably _was_ the longest conversation they have ever had without insulting the other. She had expected him to come back with some quip about Lavendar’s shrillness or something, but he didn’t speak. He leaned back against his chair, looking everywhere but her. The air in the room became stiff as Hermione licked her lips and fiddled with her quill.

“Did I say the wrong thing?”

He glanced at her quickly. “No,” he said shortly, “just don’t think anyone should be allowed to snog like that.”

She let out a laugh despite herself and nodded her head in agreement.

Draco didn’t look at her again as students began to slowly fill into the classroom. Theodore Nott sat next to him and tried to make conversation. But Draco didn’t bite. He just kept replaying the two minute conversation between him and Hermione and wondered when he would _ever_ be able to hear her laugh like that again.


	2. Two - Winter Winds

_but if your strife strikes at your sleep_  
_remember spring swaps snow for leaves,_  
_you’ll be happy and wholesome again  
_ _when the city clears and sun ascends_

Hermione went with Harry and Ron to bid them goodbye at the Hogsmeade train station. She soon regretted it, however, when Lavendar quickly approached and wrapped herself up in her redheaded, Quidditch-player of a boyfriend.

Harry hugged Hermione goodbye and told her to owl him a lot. It was only three weeks, but it was the first time in a very long time that the three of them would be sort of separated. She told him not to worry, she would be catching up on her reading - for class and for entertainment - and of course, knitting hats for the house elves. She promised that his Christmas present would make him smile; between you and me, it was the newest edition of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , signed by Viktor Krum - she had kept in touch - and a few other famous Quidditch players - he owed her a favor. There was even a chapter dedicated to Hogwarts Quidditch matches, where both James and Harry Potter were featured.

Hermione and a few other students waved goodbye to their friends as the train left the station. She and Professor McGonagall made small talk on their windy trek back to the castle.

“I’m surprised at your decision, Miss Granger. Normally you would attack such conflicts head-on.”

“This isn’t a usual conflict, Professor. It’s. . .Ronald.”

The grey-haired woman frowned and shook her head knowingly. Throughout her many, _many_ years at Hogwarts, she had witnessed various heartbreaks, and typically soothed the heartbroken and scolded the heartbreakers.

“Anyway, how many students are staying for the holiday?” Hermione asked to change the subject quickly.

“Probably around twenty or thirty students, all across the houses. I’m unsure if you know any of them, but you’ll see all of them at dinner.” McGonagall bid the young woman goodbye and headed towards her chambers.

Hermione slowly returned to the Gryffindor common room, and it suddenly seemed overwhelmingly large and quiet. The couches didn’t seem inviting, the fireplace didn’t warm her insides, the books on the walls didn’t seem intriguing.

The emptiness was unbearable and she badly wanted a stiff drink.

She turned 17 in September, and over the summer her parents had let her try some wine, but she hadn’t tried anything from the Wizarding World yet.

She heard footsteps on the stairs that lead to the dormitories and quickly shook her head. She was a Prefect, she had to lead by example.

“Oh, I didn’t know that you were staying for the holidays.” A timid second or third year stopped on the last step, eyes wide. “You’re Hermione Granger, right? I’ve heard a lot about you.” She spoke very fast, her fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of her sweater. “You’re really brave and smart and you’re so nice.” The girl paused and looked at her shoes. “I wish everyone was like you.”

Hermione smiled sadly at the young girl. “What’s your name?”

She quickly glanced up. “Aspen. I’m thirteen.”

Hermione smiled. “Hi, Aspen. Thank you for your really nice words. It seems that your day hasn’t been going the way you would like.”

“My life isn’t going the way I want it.” Aspen sniffed.

Hermione’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I’m supposed to be normal!” The young girl cried, stomping her foot like a five-year-old would during a tantrum. “My parents are normal, my brothers are normal, my whole family is normal! Why do I have to be the one who’s weird?” Hermione approached the girl and pulled her into one of the oversized chairs.

“You are not weird, Aspen. You have magic in your blood, it’s undeniable. It makes you special and amazing. I take it your brothers find you strange and a little bit of a freak?” Aspen nodded, wiping at her eyes. “Your brothers are just jealous. Every child wishes that they could do whatever they pleased with just a little bit of magic. And it’s real and it’s wonderful and it’s possibly the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.” Aspen looked at her, doubt etched into her face. “It is! I would never have met my best friends, Harry and. . .”

Was Ron still her best friend even though she couldn’t stand the sight of him? Even though he was with another girl, one of Hermione’s own dorm mates? She hadn’t said anything, and maybe that was her own downfall.

“Hermione?” Aspen asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

Hermione pulled herself together and continued to speak. “Listen, I am incredibly grateful for everything Hogwarts has given me: friends, family, and an education revolving around something I used to only dream about!” She sighed and pushed the girl’s dark hair away from her face. “I promise you that once you see just how amazing you are, things won’t be so bad.”

Aspen smiled a little, despite her sad demeanor. “You think that’ll work?”

“Oh, I know it’ll work.” Hermione said with an air of confidence. “Friends are also really helpful too.” She stood up and held out her hand to Aspen. “C’mon, lets get dinner.”

*.*.*.*

Draco did not go to the train station to tell his friends goodbye - mostly because he didn’t really view them as. . . _friends_. Crabbe and Goyle were more like bodyguards, his henchmen, complete goons actually. Pansy Parkinson truly believed that she was going to marry him someday and therefore would never ever leave his side. She chewed gum like a cow chewed on its curd and hardly knew of the concept of personal space. Theodore Nott was a great companion, but his disdain for Draco’s mark put a real strain on their actual friendship. Theodore had openly disagreed with his parent’s devotion to Lord Voldemort and refused to stay at their home for the holidays. Draco didn’t know where the guy would end up, but the kid was resourceful, he’ll be fine.

Draco was all but forced to remain at Hogwarts for Christmas. Since he has had no such luck with the whole ‘kill-Dumbledore-or-I’ll-kill-your-whole-family’ plot that Voldemort requested, Lucius (and maybe Narcissa) decided that he should stay. Maybe he would have a better opportunity when there were less people and no classes.

But really, he didn’t even know what to do in order to kill the old wizard. He knew the man loved lemon drops, could he poison some of those and give them as a present? No, a present from Draco would be too obvious, he was always encouraging his father’s mentality that Dumbledore was the _worst_ thing to ever happen to Hogwarts.

(But in reality, the man was pretty great, although Draco would never admit it aloud.)

After Slughorn’s Christmas Party and Snape’s angry outburst, it was obvious to Draco that his mother had told his godfather of Voldemort’s request and asked him to intervene if (and when) necessary. He wanted to be angry at her for her obvious lack of faith in his abilities, but he also knew that he couldn’t do it. In the back of his mind, there was a voice that kept saying, _this isn’t right, this is all wrong, this isn’t what you signed up for_.

(He just couldn’t listen to it.)

But if he didn’t do this, if he didn’t kill Dumbledore, his family was going to pay the price.

The only other Slytherin staying for the holidays, a moody fourteen year old Pureblood named Hudson Delancey, appeared on the stairs and drew Draco away from his musings. “Hey Malfoy, are you coming to dinner?”

Draco glanced at the younger boy and shrugged.

Hudson brushed past him, mumbled “whatever,” and left the common room.

Draco couldn’t be bothered by rude gestures or snide comments anymore. His attitude had changed drastically since the end of last school year. He was no longer carefree, his smirks became frowns, even Quidditch was no longer fun (he even paid another sixth year to take his place as Seeker.) School no longer seemed interesting.

But school was the only thing he had going for himself. Even through his internal dilemma, his marks had stayed the same, if not actually improved. He was the top male student in the entire sixth year, second only to the great Hermione Granger.

Draco sighed and meandered to the Great Hall for dinner. The halls were quiet as the portraits were too busy muttering amongst themselves to notice him slink through the shadows. Unfortunately, his black uniform shoes echoed on the hard stone floors and upon his entrance to the hall, the remaining students’ heads turned towards him.

Hudson was alone at the Slytherin table. There was quite a large handful of Hufflepuffs, and he noticed most of them were older. The few Ravenclaws that had stayed varied in age. And then there was the Gryffindor table. There was a small group of prepubescent boys close to the doors, two teenaged girls, and then two other girls at the very end closest to the professors. One was very young with dark hair and the other was Hermione.

As Draco walked to the Slytherin table, he noticed how the girl with dark hair watched Hermione intently as the bushy haired woman kept speaking. Hermione stayed for the holiday? Draco couldn’t remember the last time she wasn’t with Potter or Weasley for an extended amount of time. It was probably when she had been petrified in second year. He almost ran into the table because he wasn’t paying attention to his footsteps. It drew the attention of Hudson, who muttered to the pale blond, “What are you doing staring at the _Gryffindors_?”

“I wasn’t staring.” Draco defended his actions immediately and sat down a good arms-length away from Hudson, but it didn’t go unnoticed by Professor McGonagall that his ears turned a little pink and he continued his swift glances at the bushy-haired witch at her own House’s table. She grinned a bit into her goblet.

(Maybe the holiday wasn’t going to be as mundane as she previously thought.)

“What. . .are you on about?” Professor Snape drawled from his seat next to her.

“Oh nothing.” McGonagall’s lips quirked into mischievous grin. “Thought I saw an interesting development in your godson.”

Snape wasn’t sure where she was going with this. “Why would you suggest such a thing, Minerva?”

“I think that he’s is trying unsuccessfully to control his emotions towards one of my Gryffindors.” McGonagall raised her eyebrows in delight and returned to her shepherd’s pie.

Snape slowly looked between Draco and the Gryffindor table, piecing the puzzle together as he watched the smartest witch of her age be completely oblivious to the glances from not only the blond, but also every boy over thirteen in the hall.

“That is. . .interesting.” Snape muttered, his face cast downwards.

McGonagall smirked at the Slytherin Head of House and patted his hand and said, with a twinge of sarcasm, “It’ll be okay, Severus.”

He merely turned his head away from her and resumed eating.


	3. Three - Monster

_can I clear my conscience_  
_if I’m different from the rest?_  
_do I have to run and hide?_  
_I never said that I want this,_  
_this burden came to me,  
_ _and it’s made its home inside_

_if I told you what I was_  
_would you turn your back on me?_  
_and if I seem dangerous  
_ _would you be scared?_

Draco didn’t attend lunch two days before Christmas. It was a little obvious, seeing as he was _one_ of only _two_ Slytherins staying for the holidays. Hermione wasn’t concerned, per se, she was merely intrigued. She couldn’t help but notice that he was paler and thinner than ever before, and the dark circles under his eyes gave away his exhaustion.

After finishing her own lunch, Hermione wandered around the castle in peace for once. It was odd not to have Harry and Ron following her every move and complaining about her daily - nope, hourly - trips to the library. The lit torches cast shadows in the long corridors as dark clouds rolled in, no doubt carrying inches - if not feet - of snow. She contemplated taking a bath in the Prefect’s bathroom, seeing as no one else was here to use it, but then she saw a flash of pale blond hair turn a corner to go upstairs. Letting her curiosity get the better of her, she followed him. (It’s what Harry would’ve done.)

He stopped by the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy on the seventh floor and walked by the opposite wall three times before the doors to the Room of Requirement appeared. Hermione just barely managed to follow him inside before the doors disappeared.

She was unsure of what he had asked for, because the room was full with ceiling-high piles of junk. There was everything from broken toys to unbound books to Muggle contraptions she recognized. She followed the sound of his shoes against the floor and hid behind a mound of stuffed animals while he jiggled the hand of a black cabinet. It opened slowly, and his shoulders fell a bit, showing. . . _disappointment?_ He pulled out his wand and muttered a few spells, the cabinet glowing different colours during the incantations. Hermione’s eyebrows drew together, _what was he doing?_

Draco was oblivious to the woman standing behind him as he attempted to fix the Vanishing Cabinet. He hated this job, he hated being a Death Eater, but if he wanted to live, he would do what the Dark Lord asks. There was nothing inside when he opened it, and he deflated. Pulling out his wand, he began to mumble some spells he had found to continue to restore it. It had been fifteen years since the cabinet was last used, so the magic had faded. He had received some help from Snape, for reasons not unknown to him, but not enough to fully repair the cabinet.

He silently transfigured a nearby block of wood into a hardback book and placed it inside the cabinet. He closed it slowly and muttered “ _Harmiona_ _Nectere_ _Passus_ ” twice.

He opened the door, saw it still sitting there and slammed it in frustration. The slam startled Hermione and she jumped, knocking over the pile of old stuffed animals. He whirled around, wand out and at the ready, eyes blazing. She threw her arms up in surrender and took a quick step back.

He shoved his wand in his pocket as his eyebrows knitted together. “What are you doing here?”

Hermione slowly lowered her hands to her side. “I - I saw you slip inside the Room of Requirement and I was curious because. . .” She trailed off on that train of thought before she said something about Harry’s suspicions. “You also missed lunch. You can’t afford to miss lunch.”

Draco’s grey eyes darkened. He skipped the unfinished sentence and went for the easy attack. “What do you mean by I can’t ‘afford’ to miss lunch?”

“Well god, look at yourself,” Hermione snorted, “your uniform doesn’t even fit you anymore!”

He snorted. “Don’t worry about me, Granger. You’re not my mother.”

“No, but it’s my duty as a Prefect to observe any irregularities I see, whether or not they are well received.” He didn’t respond to her so she changed topics. “What are you trying to do?”

He shook his head once. “You don’t need to know. You should leave and forget this _ever_ happened.”

“I could.”

“You must.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” She was exasperated with his silly antics. He wasn’t in his right mind.

“I insist that you leave or you’re not going to like the consequences.”

“ _I insist_.” She mocked his tone and then scoffed. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Well, you should be!” Without really thinking, he pulled up his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark burned on his left forearm. Hermione couldn’t help but stare at his out-stretched arm. Not only was the Dark Mark there, but his skin was tightly stretched over his bones. He used to have muscles, Quidditch does _wonders_ for the body, but now he was gaunt. Frankly, she was startled by his outburst and surprised by the reveal of the mark that proves his loyalty to the Dark Lord. It seemed out of character, but he’s seemed out of sorts since the beginning of the school year. This must be why: he’s a Death Eater.

She shook her head slowly and repeated her earlier statement. “I’m. . .not afraid of you.”

Draco was almost exasperated with her. He wanted her to see why she should run away, too scared to say anything to anyone, and never speak to him again. But he loves a good verbal sparing contest, and Hermione Granger knows how to throw down.

“Don’t you know what this means? Don’t you know that this means he’s recruiting people to help destroy your _best_ _friend_?”

“Please, he’s been recruiting people for years,” Hermione scoffed, “I’m not scared of him, or you, for that matter.”

“He’s gotten stronger, and braver, and he’ll kill you for knowing about the mark.”

“But you wouldn’t.”

“I’m a part of it, it’s my duty,” he practically yelled.

She hesitantly took a few steps closer to him. “If you were _really_ a Death Eater, you wouldn’t have shown me the Mark after only a bit of prodding. You were looking for somebody to notice something, you _want_ to tell someone.”

“You don’t know me Granger, don’t act like you know what’s going on right now.” He spat the words out of his mouth like they were fire.

“Look, if you were a Death Eater, you would have called me a mudblood and hexed me until I didn’t remember what I just learnt and subsequently left the room.” Hermione whispered. She waited for Draco to raise his wand and threaten her to leave. She waited for him to call her a ‘filthy little mudblood’ like he had for so long and press two fingers to the mark to call for Voldemort to arrive and kill her.

He didn’t.

“You’re not a Death Eater,” she said softly. He shook his head, refusing to look at her.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and turned away from him, clucking her tongue. “You don’t have to believe me.” She was almost gone before she turned back and said, “Oh, and I won’t be telling anyone about this, in case you want to finish me off the way a _real_ Death Eater would.”


	4. Four - Shots

_oh I’m wishing you’re here_  
_but I’m wishing you’re gone_  
_I can’t have you and_  
_I’m only gonna do you wrong_  
_oh I’m going to mess this up  
_ _oh this is just my luck_

It was nearing midnight on Christmas Eve when Hermione stumbled out of her empty room in pajama pants and one of Harry’s old jumpers with a neatly sewn ‘H’ by Mrs. Weasley on it. She hadn’t had nearly enough of her favorite food that night at dinner, so she grabbed her wand and made her way downstairs to the kitchens. Since it was the holidays, there were no Prefects roaming the halls, no Professors looking to dock points, and most importantly, no Filch to drag students to his office to be reprimanded.

She had owled Harry the day before, mentioning how nice it was to be able to roam the shelves of the library without being mercilessly teased about it or begged to just _sit down and read one of the ninety-four books that were already checked out in her name_. She mentioned her new friend Aspen and how her mood regarding magic had improved after only three days, but Hermione took no credit even though credit was due.

She kept her word and did not inform Harry that all his suspicions about Draco Malfoy being a Death Eater were indeed correct and she didn’t, in fact, even tell her best friend that the young man was staying at Hogwarts for the holiday.

He had returned her note by dinner, moaning about Ginny and Dean’s awful closeness, but also his excitement over the fact that Remus was getting very, _very_ close to Tonks - a fact that made Hermione squeal like a little girl. He never once mentioned Ron or Lavendar and he did seem to enjoy learning about Aspen. He also profusely apologized for being an arse about the library, which made Hermione giggle.

Once entering the kitchens, Hermione was welcomed by Winky.

“Hello, Miss Granger, how can you assist you?”

“Hi Winky, don’t you know that you can call me Hermione?”

The elves’ eyes grew large and she shook her head. “No, no, I won’t.”

Hermione sensed a meltdown and shook her head. “That’s okay Winky, don’t worry.” The smaller-than-usual elf relaxed. “I came down because I didn’t have nearly enough cranberry sauce at dinner tonight. Is there any left?”

Before Winky could answer, she heard a spoon clatter against a plate. She straightened and looked farther into the kitchen. Draco was sitting on a stool, wearing a pair of striped pajama pants and an old Quidditch shirt, staring at the small plate in front of him. “Cranberry sauce, huh?”

Hermione suddenly noticed how difficult it was to swallow. She hadn’t seen him since the awkward Room of Requirement endeavor, since he showed her his mark in a fit of rage. What was he thinking? Was he avoiding her? It would make sense. But Hermione didn’t realize that she would fall into a rut of anxiety upon seeing him again.

Winky interrupted her thoughts by handing her a plate of dark red cranberry sauce and a spoon.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize someone else would be here this late,” Hermione stuttered, something seemingly very familiar about her words.

Draco shook his head, but didn’t say anything as he picked up his spoon again. She realized she wasn’t very hungry anymore. She thought about retreating to the safety and warmth of her dormitory and losing herself in a book but then he spoke again. “We need to talk.”

Hermione opened her mouth but no sound came out. He gestured for her to sit on the stool on the other side of the counter. After a short moment of deliberation, she sat herself down and placed the plate of cranberry sauce on the counter with a little more force than necessary. She was fidgety; she ran her fingers over the delicate pattern on the handle of the spoon and bounced her leg.

Draco was about to ask her if she was ever going to _stop moving and eat the bloody sauce_ when she abruptly said, “If we’re going to discuss your mark, I’m going to need a drink.”

Despite his horrible mood, he smirked and said, “My, my, I didn’t know the Gryffindor Princess got drunk.”

Her face flushed and stuttered, “Well, I - I haven’t actually had a, uh, drink before, but I think this situation, uhm, calls for it.”

Draco’s smirk grew wider. “Well, I can’t let a lady drink alone.” He turned to nearest house elf and asked for a bottle of firewhiskey and two glasses.

“You’re not of age yet!” She gaped at him.

“C’mon Granger, loosen up, it’s Christmas.” The house elf returned with a tall bottle and two small round glasses.

After one sip, Hermione realized _why_ it was called firewhiskey.

After another sip, she didn’t cough afterwards.

After her third (large) sip, she understood why people called alcohol ‘liquid courage.’

Draco enjoyed watching Hermione’s demeanor change from tightly wound to letting loose. She released her hair from her ponytail and flung the rubber band at Draco when he snickered as she refilled her glass.

“Alright, let’s talk,” Hermione finally said, scooping some cranberry sauce into her mouth.

“Why haven’t you told anybody about my Dark Mark?” He asked.

“Well, you certainly don’t waste _any_ time,” Hermione mumbled and swallowed. He watched her take another slow sip and mimicked her actions. “It’s not my secret to tell.”

“But I’m the enemy.”

She shook her head. “Oh please, you’re only a Death Eater because you’re a _Malfoy_. It was basically be a Death Eater or be disowned, right?” When he didn’t answer her, she raised her glass. “I’m right, I know I’m right.”

“You’re always right,” Draco muttered.

She chuckled a little. “Nice to see that you’re accepting that a Mudblood can be smarter than a Pureblood.”

“Don’t call yourself that.”

His sudden declaration surprised both of them. She was halfway to another bite of cranberry sauce but it slowly returned back to the plate. Her eyebrows drew together as his eyes got wide and he tried to backtrack.

“I mean, you shouldn’t, uhm, it’s a, uh -”

“Why not?” She asked softly, looking down at her glass of firewhiskey. “It’s what I am in your eyes, in every Pureblood’s eyes, in. . .Voldemort’s eyes.”

He swallowed uncomfortably. Five and a half years of being the biggest prat in the whole damn school, shoving first years, taunting third years, chasing the Snitch and tormenting Potter out on the Quidditch pitch, calling Hermione the worst name imaginable, it all came crashing down on his conscience like a lead balloon.

“Do you remember, ah, in fourth year, we were supposed to make this potion to help with common ailments? You cut yourself while cutting something up and you were bleeding all over the place and Potter and Weasel didn’t know what to do with themselves.” She nodded slowly, the gears in her mind turning to take her back to that day. “That day, I saw that your blood was the same as mine. The same red colour, the same iron smell, the same sticky texture. Your blood isn’t less than mine, and my blood isn’t any different than your’s. I, I had to make sure so I nicked my finger too, just to see the blood. It’s stupid, I know, but. . .” She was staring at him with wide eyes, her knuckles white as she clenched the glass in her hands. “Blood’s all the same when it’s spilling out of someone.” He cleared his throat a little and turned the tumbler in his hands, all the while watching her. “I know it’s a bit -”

“Out of character?” She squeaked, and her face turned red upon hearing how silly she sounded.

“Yeah.” His eyes fell to the floor. “But if you knew the other things I’ve done because of you, it wouldn’t seem so crazy.”

“You’ve, you’ve done other things because of. . .me?” Hermione spluttered.

“I’m not the second smartest person in the school for nothing.” He smirked in response, but it dwindled when he glanced at her face. “When you arrived at the Yule Ball. . .” He closed his eyes and ran a hand down his face while sighing. “Damn, I couldn’t say anything bad about you. Of course, I just had probably the largest realization of my life, you were _like_ me, and that you managed to bag the Durmstrang champion -”

“I did not ‘bag’ Viktor.”

“Granger, you had him wrapped around your pinky, every girl in the room was jealous of you.” She smiled a little and refilled their glasses. “And so many guys were jealous of Krum.”

“Like Ron.” Hermione cringed at her braveness that could easily be mistaken for brazenness. When she had brought the redhead up in Ancient Runes, Draco had halted the conversation right then and there.

“Well, he’s an idiot for not trying to be with you.”

(Maybe the firewhiskey made Draco a bit more brave too.)

With wide eyes, Hermione grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey and stood up in one fluid motion. She beamed at him and said, “Let’s go.” She didn’t give him a chance to ask her _where?_ or _why?_ or _do you want more firewhiskey than just half a bottle?_ , but the way she walked to the door and how her hair swished over her shoulder when she flashed him a smile and asked _are you coming?_ , he couldn’t get to the door fast enough.

They ended up at the Room of Requirement again. Draco made a door appear, a much smaller but more intricate door than the one she followed him in two days earlier, and ushered her inside.

Large windows covered the walls, and Hermione could see snow falling from the sky above to transform the grounds into a winter wonderland. There were rows and rows of bookcases holding what had to be hundreds of books, of every genre and author imaginable. There were two fireplaces to warm the room and couches and chairs to sit on and pillows and blankets to keep cozy. She immediately handed the bottle to Draco and wandered off, grinning like a child would on Christmas morning upon their discovery of presents.

Draco grinned as she explored and sat the bottle down on the closest table. He could hear her trainers on the floor, padding slowly up and down the bookcases. He would come to this room when he felt overwhelmed, which was actually more often in the last four months than in his last five years at Hogwarts. There were books that he could read just because and there were books that would help him with his homework and there were books that could give him insight about his assignment from the Dark Lord. But he really enjoyed just watching the sun set over the trees of the Forbidden Forest while lounging in a chair.

“This is incredible.” He heard Hermione mumble, her fingertips touching the spines of the books. He smiled to himself and plopped down in a chair to get settled. “What did you ask for?” Her attention was now on him.

“A place where I can just. . .be myself.” She grinned at him, kicking off her trainers and settling in the chair across from him.

Funnily enough, they seemed quite content just watching the other for the time being. Hermione noticed how Draco’s demeanor was different - after simply being honest with her, he wasn’t afraid to just. . .be free. He had one leg thrown over the arm of the chair, a tumbler of firewhiskey resting on his knee. His head rested on his right hand as he gazed at her. She had her legs tucked under her, a pillow in her lap, and her hands turning the tumbler in circles.

“I thought you hated me,” Hermione blurted, her eyes darting up to his face to gauge his reaction.

“Why?”

She snorted at him, pouring a bit more firewhiskey into her glass. “Because of my blood.”

“No,” he said, “you made me question everything my parents ever told me. That’s why I was this monstrous prick towards you. All I had ever known was that Muggleborn blood was completely inferior to all other blood. But then you came along and made me think that my father was wrong. I suddenly had this bushy-haired witch that was smarter than me and. . .she was a Muggleborn!” Hermione laughed and Draco grinned.

(There’s that laugh.)

They continued to sit in silence for a while, watching the snow fall outside and sipping their firewhiskey. “So, uh, what else have you done because of. . .” Hermione gestured to herself to finish her sentence. Draco chuckled at her inability to put it into words.

“Remember second year, with the Heir of Slytherin and the petrified students?”

Hermione bobbed her head up and down, taking a drink from her tumbler. “Uh yeah, I was one of them.”

Draco swallowed uncomfortably. “Right. Well, that piece of paper that you found in the library, the one about the basilisk? I left it there so you would find it.”

Hermione remembered her little twelve-year-old self exploring the library for some information about petrification when there was a slip of paper sticking out one of the books. She had thought the book was damaged so she grabbed it off the table to take to Madame Pince, but the piece of paper flew out. She reached down to grab it and saw the information about the basilisk. . .

“I knew my father had some retched plan, I overheard my mum trying to talk him out of it one night. I found a book about the Hogwarts founders, and I read about Salazar Slytherin’s pet snake, the basilisk, hiding somewhere in the castle. When we were at Flourish and Blotts, I grabbed the closest copy of Fantastic Beasts and I ripped the basilisk page out of it and kept it until I knew I had to give it to someone.”

She paused, taking her lower lip in between her teeth. “Did you know he planned on giving Tom Riddle’s diary to Ginny?”

He shook his head. “No.” She looked unsatisfied, so he elaborated. “When I went home for Easter, he had said that the last time they let the monster loose, a Muggleborn died. That was when I knew you had to get the paper somehow. I didn’t want you to die.”

Hermione smiled slightly, toying with the loose threads of her sweater. “So. . .you’ve been mean to me all these years because I made you rethink everything your parents ever taught you?”

Draco hesitated, his mouth half open as if he was going to confess everything in one night. She raised her eyebrows at him, almost daring him to continue, but he shook his head. “I’m out of place, I shouldn’t continue.”

She shrugged and allowed the conversation to end. At that moment, she realized the bottle of firewhiskey was empty. Had they really drunk that much of it? All she wanted was to snuggle down with a blanket and some pillows and a book on the floor.

She rose from her chair and swayed a little. Steadying herself, she carefully walked to the classics and picked a book after a few moments of deliberation - a classic Muggle novel titled _Jane Eyre_. She settled herself on the plush rug covering the hard floor. Draco made no attempt to move from his chair as he watched her move about the room silently. His alcoholic haze was at its worst and he was lucky he stopped talking when he did. Maybe they should just sleep the firewhiskey off and return to their dorms in the morning.

“Should we just stay in here, sleep off the alcohol in our systems? We’ll need some water, and perhaps a hangover spell, but I’m sure I could find one. . .” Hermione mumbled, saying aloud what he was just thinking.

“You’re very thoughtful for being drunk.”

“Just trying to be responsible, as always.” The tone of her voice teetered on annoyance and pure exhaustion.

Draco smiled and slipped down to the floor as well. A tray with a water pitcher and two goblets appeared and he handed her one. Hermione didn’t realize how parched she really was until the first drop of water touched her tongue.

Smiling her gratitude, Hermione placed the goblet back on the tray when they had drunk all the water. She was definitely going to feel the effects of her late night adventure in the morning, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. The rug was soft and fluffy, the room was warm from the fireplace and it smelled of books. She got to page two, maybe three of _Jane Eyre_ before the book slowly fell from her hands as her eyelids drooped close.

Draco was right behind her as his exhaustion settled in his bones. For four months, he had been working tirelessly to prevent a massacre, albeit unsuccessfully. He wasn’t going to give up, he needed to fix the cabinet, but maybe he could just get some sleep, some peaceful sleep with the girl who he’d been infatuated with since she opened her know-it-all mouth in first year. He laid on his back on the floor, his own blanket on top of him. He looked over at Hermione, gently took the book from her slack grasp and brushed the hair out of her face. She sighed in her sleep and rolled onto her side, closer to his body. He didn’t know it, but he was smiling in his sleep that night.


	5. Five - The Cave

_so come out of your cave_   
_walking on your hands_  
 _and see the world_   
_hanging upside down_  
 _you can understand dependence when you know  
_ _the maker’s land_

Hermione Granger had never felt more comfortable in her entire life. She was warm, she thought, as she snuggled farther into her pillow, and she felt safer than she had ever before.

(Why was her pillow moving?)

. . .

(Pillows don’t have heartbeats.)

Her eyes opened slowly, the rays of sun from the windows across from her tickling her face. She crinkled her nose and rubbed her face with her free hand. There was a small _thud_ - _thud_ - _thud_ at the base of her neck that got worse as she opened her eyes more. Through her blurry vision, she saw bookshelves and couches and a dying fire in the fireplace.

Oh. . .right.

It all came back to her. The midnight trip to the kitchens, the talk with Draco, the Room of Requirement, the sheer amount of firewhiskey consumed. Her heart rate sped up. She just spent the entire night with Harry’s sworn enemy, the man who made her life a living hell for years, and he was. . .different. He was nice and open and his smile was so much better than his smirk. Was it all just an act? Was this a ploy to get to her to get to Harry? He seemed too sincere when he spoke about her last night, did he do all these things because he felt something for her? That’s impossible, he’s _Malfoy_ , he, he, he. . .

He teased her from day one, when she asked him if he had seen a toad and he said he was looking at one. Everything from her hair and teeth to her blood status had been used against her, but now her hair was calmer and curlier, her teeth were smaller, and apparently calling herself a mudblood was grounds for an outburst.

But then she remembered little Davey Hash from her class when she was seven and how he used to take her books when she was reading and make her chase him. She was so upset she told her mum who said, “Hermione, when a boy likes a girl and doesn’t know what to do about it, he will act out accordingly and tease you.”

Lifting her head, she saw her arm thrown across Draco’s chest and his arm was around her with his hand resting low on her hip and her leg was casually thrown over his and his breath tickled her ear as he slowly inhaled and exhaled in his sleep.

Why wasn’t she panicking? Why wasn’t she pulling away like he burned her? Why wasn’t she scared of him? All of these thoughts raced through her head, which didn’t help the pounding, but she noticed that she wasn’t _un_ comfortable. For some reason, she actually felt safe and secure in his hold. She slowly lowered her head back to his chest and sighed.

She was in deep trouble.

She would be keeping a secret from her best friends, a handsome one at that, but still a secret. But she was a person who kept her promises. She wouldn’t tell a soul of the Dark Mark on his arm. She absentmindedly began to run her fingers lightly across his cotton-covered chest as she chewed on her bottom lip. She must look like a mess, a hungover, smudged, oily, gross mess. But she didn’t have anything to change into, anything to drink, anything that would make herself presentable, she didn’t have any thing to even brush her teeth!

Draco must have sensed her worry or felt the change in her breathing pattern or _something_ , because he stirred below her, sighing and clutching her closer to his body. His eyes fluttered open and Hermione felt him tense up as he realized she hadn’t stopped tracing shapes on his chest, so he knew she was awake and _wasn’t going to leave_.

She hadn’t turn to face him, but his hand flattened on her back and slowly moved higher up to rest on her shoulder. His thumb stroked the skin at the junction of her collarbone and neck and she sighed.

(What on earth were they doing?)

“I don’t know.” His low husky voice startled her. Had she asked that out loud? Her ears were ringing with his answer and her brain was running a million miles an hour, trying to find a logical reason to _stay right here in his arms_ when she should have been trying to find a way to _leave and never look him in the eyes ever again_. “But I’d really rather not leave.”

It was Christmas morning, they had to go to breakfast, or else McGonagall will be concerned and Snape will try to hide his concern but they will both end up searching the whole castle and they didn’t need that.

But she had to agree, she didn’t really want to leave either. Who knew the floor of the Room of Requirement was so comfortable? Who knew Draco Malfoy enjoyed cuddling? Who knew she would be feeling something she _really shouldn’t be_ for the platinum blond man she could feel _every_ inch of below her?

“Last night was. . .” Her voice trailed off as she finally tilting her head upwards, resting it on his shoulder to see his eyes. (Were they always _that_ grey?) His pupils were dilated ever so slightly, his hair was tousled, and he had slight stubble on his jaw and chin.

Was she really saying these words? Draco couldn’t believe it. Was she still drunk? Was he still drunk? Was she sleep talking? Was he dreaming? Why hadn’t she left yet? He expected to wake up and be alone. But here she was, staring up at him with those brown eyes that he could swim in, her leg delightfully thrown over his, weighing down his still floating body. The sunlight was seeping through the windows behind her, leaving her to look absolutely breathtaking.

Realizing that he hadn’t said anything in response yet, he smiled a bit. She cast her eyes downward, a blush creeping into her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I must look like a mess.”

He continued to smile, now shaking his head at her comment. “Of course not.”

As much as they both wanted this moment to continue, they knew they had to venture back to their own dormitories and attend Christmas brunch in the Great Hall. They had to carry on and not let anyone see the evidence of a long night and an empty firewhiskey bottle.

“We should get going.” Hermione whispered, but she made no move to get up.

After moments of deliberation, Draco spoke slowly, “If you leave this room now, I need there to be a reason for you to return.”

She raised her eyebrows. She was, to be truthful, thinking the same thing. “A reason, hmm. . .I want to explore your library.” She chuckled a bit, feeling very insecure all of a sudden. “I want to explore. . .you. All of you.” She bit her lip, fearing that may have been a little too intimate of a confession.

Draco exhaled, closing his eyes. _Please Merlin, don’t let this be a dream_ , he pleaded. He nodded, “that’s a. . .pretty good reason.”

Silently, they stood and placed the pillows and blankets back on the couches. Hermione winced as she bent over to pick up her shoes, the throbbing in her temples still overly evident. At the door, they stopped to take one last look at the other. Draco tucked her hair behind her ear, letting his fingertips run along her jaw before shoving both his hands in his pajama pockets.

“When do you want to come back?” He asked her, trying not to show his desperation. His lack of pure human interaction was showing and he chewed the inside of his cheek as he waited for her to respond.

“Well, seeing as there aren’t any classes or any Prefect duties or any friends running around to bother us, I’d say that anytime after breakfast would be, uhm, good.” She rushed through her words and fiddled with her hair, trying hard to not show her high level of excitement. “Unless you would rather -”

“No, that’s great.” He cut her off and turned the doorknob slowly. After double-checking that no one was around, they exited their little cave and stood awkwardly in the corridor. How do you say goodby to someone you are going to see in half an hour at breakfast, someone you spent _half the night_ _with_ talking and drinking?

Draco pulled her close, mumbling something about seeing her soon into her ear, and squeezed her hands quickly. Still in a daze and slightly breathless as he turned the corner to descend to the Slytherin common rooms, Hermione shook her head and returned to her own dorm.

Shutting the porthole quietly, she made it halfway up the stairs to her dorm before Aspen opened the door from her room. Her eyes went wide at the sight of Hermione.

“Are. . .are you just getting in?”

(Clearly the thirteen-year-old knew a little bit about sneaking back in after a late night out.)

Colour rose to Hermione’s cheeks but she didn’t say anything.

“Hermione, stop smiling, it’s weird.”

Oh god, had she been smiling this whole time? Oh, what was happening to her?

“Were you with a boy?” Aspen asked, sounding very much like Molly Weasley. “Did you have sex?”

“Aspen!” Hermione finally found her voice and shouted at the absurdity of the thought of her having s-e-x with anyone. The sound of her own voice made her wince. “Just. . .just go to breakfast, I will be there soon, okay?”

The young teen shrugged, agreeing to Hermione’s terms and hurried to the Great Hall.

For the first time in her life, Hermione found it hard to decide what to wear. After taking the fastest shower in the history of showers, she stood in front of her wardrobe in a towel and was at a complete loss. Where was Ginny when she needed her?

Pulling on a pair of jeans that were comfortable and still indecisive about the top, she wondered if she should take her book bag with her, to do homework. Would that be strange? It would be like a study-date.

Wait, was this a date?

(That thought alone sent Hermione’s brain spiraling into oblivion.)

Twenty-two and a half minutes later, she rounded the corner to see Draco walking to the doors of the Great Hall, wearing slacks and a green button down shirt under a jacket. She was suddenly very thankful she decided to wear jeans and a comfy jumper under her cloak.

They met at the doors, unable to hide their grins from each other. The air was crisp from the snow fall and the slight wind, and her stomach grumbled as the smell of food wafted their direction. They entered the Hall together, but no one seemed to notice. The other students were sharing letters and presents from their parents and siblings while scarfing food into their mouths. After a lingering look, Hermione and Draco sat at their respective tables.

“You were with Malfoy, weren’t you?” Aspen accused her the second the older woman sat down. “I thought he hated you! Called you the m-word, and all that.”

“Aspen,” Hermione chided, “will you _please_ just drop it, I’m not going to say anything while we’re in the Great Hall!”

Aspen rolled her eyes at the older woman. “Just be careful, everyone knows he’s trouble.”

Hermione couldn’t deny that fact. But she’s smart, the smartest witch of her age, she knows to keep on guard around him. But something about last night, the way he acted and spoke. . .maybe he’s not what everyone thinks he is.

(And by everyone, I do mean Harry Potter.)


	6. Six - Tighten Up

_I wanted love,_  
_I needed love_  
_most of all,  
_ _most of all_

_someone said_   
_true love was dead_  
_and I’m bound to fall,_  
_bound to fall_   
_for you  
_ _oh, what can I do?_

Christmas Day and the two days after passed too quickly for Hermione and Draco. Their newfound friendship, _relationship?_ , was budding wonderfully. He showed her how the library was set up, history books for both species on the two bookcases on the far left, books regarding spells, potions, magical creatures, etcetera taking up the three in the middle, and finally Muggle classics on the last bookshelf. They were becoming very used to asking the elves to pack them a lunch or a dinner to eat in the room, even with Hermione’s grumblings about how house elves need to be treated better, and surprisingly, Draco agreed.

It had been three days but Hermione was sure she was a goner. It was all over, no one else would ever be able to match her wit and love of books and magic and desire to make a difference. If anyone had said something about the two of them becoming close before the beginning of the holidays, she would have laughed in their face. It seemed absurd. It seemed outrageous. It was impossible, uncanny, absolutely stupid.

But now, the only word she could find that accurately described them was. . . _perfect_.

Of course, he still had the Dark Mark _and_ she was still best friends with Harry Potter _and_ they were in rival houses _and_ the whole school would likely burst into flames if anybody found out they were. . .doing whatever it was they were doing, _but!_ they were perfect.

They were stuck in that week between Christmas and New Year’s where they had no idea what day it was or what time it was or where they were supposed to be or what they were supposed to be doing. They lounged in their secret little library, reading their own books. Hermione had decided that the big blue armchair by the history books was her favorite and Draco always sat on the same couch. Sometimes she would join him on the couch, laying her head in his lap or vice versa, or they would tangle their bodies together and read from the same book while laying down.

There was something about the intimacy of the room that caused them to have intimacy. The idea of touching - completely PG touching - and closeness, that’s what they craved. It wasn’t a relationship, it wasn’t communication. It was knowing that someone else was in the room, that someone else was also seeing and feeling what they were seeing and feeling. Hermione had no idea that this was what she needed. She had been chasing down the idea of the same guy for what, two years, and where has it gotten her? Stuck, at Hogwarts, for Christmas, with a wounded heart.

She stole a glance of Draco, who had taken up the length of the couch on the left - he never sat on the right one for reasons unknown - and felt her breath leave her and not return until her lungs screamed for oxygen. What was this feeling? This wasn’t what she felt when she thought about Ron or caught of glimpse of him when he wasn’t looking. This wasn’t what she felt when she danced with Victor or when she lays with Harry when he trudges upstairs to escape the stares and the whispers of their peers. This was. . .uncharted territory.

(And it scared the shit out of her.)

Neither of them had really broached a subject other than books, but Hermione thought that it was about time. She had to know what she was getting herself into. She knew he had walls up, I mean, she did too. But she had a reason, an obvious reason: everything she knows about him is. . .bad. Just _bad_. There’s literally nothing good in her knowledge of him. Christmas Eve was the first time they ever had a conversation that didn’t involve yelling, crying, name-calling, inappropriate comments, or taunting.

(Well, other than the two-minute conversation they had in the last Ancient Runes class before break.)

Taking a deep breath and folding down the corner of her page, she looked up from the book and stood from her place in the armchair. The sun was starting to fall, signaling the end of the afternoon. She lifted the lid of the tray the house elves had dropped off earlier and picked up half a sandwich. As she chewed, she looked at him, and he swung his legs down to the ground and she sat down next to him. Peering into the book, she was surprised to see him reading a Muggle classic. He glanced up at her and grinned, taking a bite out the half as well. She rolled her eyes and leaned her head against his shoulder.

After a few more moments, he set the book down on the table and threw his arm around her. “What’s wrong?” He asked, his nose brushing her jaw.

Nothing, actually. “I was just thinking we could talk. You know, get to know each other. That was my reason for coming back.” If he was scared or annoyed, he didn’t show it. He just laced his fingers through her hair and hummed.

(Far be it from him to deny her anything.)

“Where do you want to start?”

Alright, this was going better than expected. “Well, we could talk about our families. Or what we want to do when the war is over.” She shrugged, holding his free hand in between hers. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

He sighed, pulling her close in his embrace. “Tell me about your family.”

She settled farther in his arms and played with his fingers. “Well, you know that I have two Muggle parents, both of whom are dentists, meaning they work on people’s teeth. We don’t really know where my magic came from. Everyone in my immediate family is non-magical. My aunt has a son who I was really close to when we were younger, but when I received my letter to Hogwarts, he pulled away, jealous or angry or whatever.” She sighed. “I feel like I haven’t spent enough time with my parents since I found out I was a witch. The last time we spent more than a week together was the summer before third year when we went to France.”

“Then why are you here for Christmas?” Draco asked, but quickly added, “not that I’m complaining.”

She smiled. “I had told them I was going to spend the holidays with the Weasley’s before school started, before. . .”

“Before Weasley and Brown got together and topped the most-disgusting-couple-at-Hogwarts list.” Draco finished for her. When she didn’t respond, he added, “it’s okay, I think everyone but him knows how you feel.”

She pulled away and turned to look him in the eyes. “Yeah, you’re right, that is why I stayed here.” He broke her gaze and looked away, but she grabbed his chin and guided his eyes back to her. “But please. . .I want you to know that, that I - I have only thought about one person since the start of winter break, and that’s you.” He stared at her, completely in disbelief. “It’s you, Draco.” She laughs, thinking how silly she must sound, how. . .much of a teenager she sounded.

(Oh wait, she was a teenager.)

“I think I, uh, I’m. . .starting to formulate these. . .you know, when butterflies erupt in your stomach when you see a person, and you just want to see their smile, and you just want to know everything, and you think to yourself that maybe you like them as more than. . .an enemy or a friend.”

A beat passed, one where Hermione wasn’t sure where this was going, where anything was going, where he was going - he was going somewhere? He was walking to the door, _was he going to leave_?

“Hermione. . .” He whispered, turning back to look at her sitting on the couch, practically in a daze. There she was, a mere four feet away, admitting feelings for him that he’s been having for her for years. “I’ve been stuck on you, on everything that _is you_ , for. . .ever. Since the Yule Ball, since you punched me, since you were petrified, hell, since you opened your mouth in Potions on the first day of class!” He stopped to run a hand through his hair, making it more disheveled, and come to think of it, Hermione liked it better that way. “I have tried. . .to simply _not_ think about you, I have tried to _date_ other girls, and I’ve failed. I’ve _failed_.” She couldn’t breathe, he had liked her for that long? “But Merlin, I, I look at you, Hermione, and, and I see everything I’ve ever wanted. . .but then I look at myself, and I see nothing you deserve.”

She walked over to his shaking form and placed her hands on his cheeks. With every step she thought, _this would be hard, so hard. Keeping a façade in front of the whole school, her friends, and Harry, god what about Harry?_ But if she would be able to have more of these moments, just like right now - okay maybe not this one in particular - with him in the Room of Requirement, it would be worth it.

His eyes, those stormy grey irises, were filled with emotions she couldn’t label. He wrapped a hand around her wrist, possibly to pull her away, but he never thought to try as she pressed her lips tentatively to his. Their eyes shut on their own accord as the kiss lasted for a _lifetime_ \- no, only a few seconds, sorry - before Hermione began to pull away. But he wouldn’t let her leave. He had tasted the Gryffindor Princess, and by god, he wasn’t letting her get away. So he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her flush against him, and kissed her again.

And there was something absolutely thrilling about the way he kissed her, how he held her, how his hands roamed across her body, causing a fiery trail to burn her through the layers of her clothing. She couldn’t help but moan when he pulled her closer to his body and twirled his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck. She didn’t realize how wonderful and all-encompassing a kiss could be, how just letting her thumb stroke the stubble on his jaw as they kissed made him growl and press against her in a way that made her feel like she was on fire and frozen in place at the same time.

And what had started out as a slow and sweet kiss turned into this rough and lustful embrace. But Hermione found herself a completely willing participant to the assault against her senses. It was him, all him; she tasted him, she smelled him, she felt him, she heard him, she _wanted_ him.

(And it was nothing like she had ever experienced before.)

Sometime during the heavy snogging session, they ended up tangled together on the couch. When Hermione finally pulled away, her lips were redder than usual and her skin was flushed, causing Draco to grin. She noted his hair was disheveled and his usually pale skin had a pink tint to it. His lips were also swollen, and he had a small red mark at the spot between his jaw and left ear. She flushed more, hiding her face in his shoulder, stifling some giggles. She was absolutely _giddy_ , is this what kissing is supposed to do to you? If so, she never wanted to stop. She was happy; she wasn’t concerned with anything other than feeling his body against hers and breathing in his wonderful scent of aftershave and the lingering tingles flowing from her head to her toes.

“Well that was fun,” Draco murmured huskily in her ear.

“We should do that more often,” Hermione mumbled, kissing his neck a few times.

He smirked and said, “much more often,” causing both of them to laugh.

*.*.*.*

On the 30th, Draco became curious about her life with Potter and Weasley. They were both on the couch facing the window that looked out over the frozen Black Lake. Draco’s back was resting against the armrest with his arms around Hermione’s middle as she laid between his legs. She was holding the book they were reading, her head resting on his shoulder.

“How did you become friends with Potter and Weasley?” He asked, the tip of his nose skimming her ear.

“They saved me from the troll.”

Draco blinked slowly. “. . .What?”

She giggled at his dumbfounded look. “Remember when there was a troll in the castle on Halloween first year? I was hiding in one of the lavatories and they found me and saved me. Of course, it was also Ron’s fault that I was in the loo anyway. He had been a downright git earlier that day.” Draco let out an exasperated noise. “But it’s okay, they soon realized that they couldn’t do anything without me.”

“And that’s why they follow you around like lost dogs. Doesn’t it get horribly annoying?”

Hermione snorted. “Of course, but they’re my friends. They also aren’t the smartest people on the planet, so feigning girl problems more than once a month is easy to do to get some time to myself.” She grinned slyly and Draco laughed heartily.

She told him a few other stories of the trio’s adventures, trying really hard not to let her emotions become too big of a factor.

“What were you doing in here last year?”

“We, well, mostly _I_ was annoyed at Umbridge’s infuriating antics and inability to teach so I told Harry that we needed someone who could teach us properly, so we could protect ourselves. We created Dumbledore’s Army -” Draco interrupted her by snorting at the name and she smacked him lightly on the arm. “Come off it, Harry was a wonderful teacher, always willing to help out if someone was confused, incredibly patient with Neville, who can actually stun people now. It’s the reason why our non-dominant hands have these scars,” she held out the back of her left hand that had the faint white lines that remain from their detentions with Umbridge. He held her hand in his and looked closer, the scars looking like the words _I must follow order_. His heart squeezed painfully as he traced the letters. Hermione either didn’t notice or didn’t want to bring it up again, so she moved on. “Oh - of course, he taught us the Patronus Charm to help in case we ever encounter Dementors again,” she laughed.

“Well, remind me to stick by one of you then so I can be safe,” Draco joked.

“Oh, I can teach you the spell, although it does take a lot of concentration and commitment.”

“I, uhm, I can’t,” he said, shaking his head.

Hermione’s eyebrows drew together as she titled her head. “Why not?” She asked with a small smile.

“You need a happy memory to produce a Patronus, don’t you?” He glanced over at her and then back to his feet.

“You. . .you don’t have any happy memories?” There goes her heart, falling deeper and deeper into the depths of his tarnished soul. He needed her, needed her to save him, to help him, to love him. “Nothing happy from your childhood?”  
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that my childhood was _bad_ , it’s just I know now that I was a little shit and I was wrong about everything I’ve ever done so it’s hard to think of them as. . .happy times,” he admitted.

Hermione sat up and pulled him into a sitting position. She stood in front of him, placing her hands on his shoulders. He looked up at her, his eyes showing his vulnerability. “Do you think this week has been a happy time for you?”

He hadn’t thought of that. “Spending time with you has made me happy.”

She grinned, tugging him off the couch and grabbed their wands from off the table by the door. “Let’s try it then.” He still looked unsure so she kissed him soundly, but far too quickly for his liking. “Come on.”

They moved one of the couches out of the way to make more room. They spent a good two hours on form and concentration before Draco was able to cast some wisps of silvery smoke from his wand.

“You’re getting there!” Hermione exclaimed. Draco groaned in frustration and threw his wand down on the table. “Hey, it’s okay, it takes a lot of practice.”

“It’s pointless, Hermione. I’m rubbish, it won’t work.”

“You are not! You _can_ do it. Try again.”

He sighed and picked his wand back up. Closing his eyes, he thought about Hermione. Spending time with her, reading and eating and sleeping and laughing and kissing.

“ _Expecto_ _Patronum_!” Draco shouted and silver wisps jutted from his wand and formed a sea otter. It floated around the two of them as Draco laughed at his accomplishment.

Hermione froze, unsure of whether or not her eyes were deceiving her. The little otter frolicked around the room, prancing through the bookcases. No, this was definitely real.

Draco’s Patronus was the same as hers.

He looked back at her and noticed her demeanor. She was just staring at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw. He felt the otter fizzle into white smoke as he reached out for her. “Hermione?” She jerked away quickly. “Is everything okay?”

Nodding her head frantically, she licked her lips and bent to grab her things. “Yeah, yeah, that was great, that’s exactly - that’s exactly what a Patronus should feel like. Okay, I have to uhm, I have to go, but I will see you later. Right. . .later.” Hermione rambled as she all but ran out of the Room of Requirement leaving a befuddled Draco in her wake.

*.*.*.*

After doing a good bit of research on the Patronus Charm, Hermione wanted to come to the conclusion that it was _just_ a coincidence that both of their Patronuses took the form of a sea otter, but she couldn’t talk herself out of understanding that it meant so much. A person’s Patronus can take any form, and although it isn’t unlikely that two people would have the same animal, it wasn’t exactly a normality. She read about how certain events in a person’s life could affect the shape and decided she had to cast the spell herself.

Without even thinking, she pointed her wand and said the incantation.

Well damn.

It was a sea otter.

She let the otter roam around her room as she sat on the floor, thinking hard. There was only one person who would be able to assist her, and his name was Dumbledore. Hermione wasn’t afraid of the old wizard, and she certainly trusted him, but that didn’t mean that she knew his health was ailing. Harry had mentioned that the password to his office was usually lemon drops or something like that so it wasn’t hard to get in.

“Miss Granger, to what do I owe this pleasure?” He was smiling as he stood near the bookshelves in his office. She got the feeling that he knew she would be coming by.

“I was hoping you could help me with some research I’ve been doing about the Patronus Charm, sir.”

“Ah yes, one of the most powerful defensive spells known to the Wizarding World. Am I wrong to assume that you already know how to cast the spell?” His eyebrows raised in surprise.

“No no, I know how to produce a Patronus, I was just looking farther into it.”

“Right then, tell me, what has. . .peaked your curiosity?”

“What does it mean, if by any chance, two people were to have the, uh. . .same Patronus?” Hermione asked, trying not to sound incredibly desperate for information.

Dumbledore rose his eyebrows, moving to sit down behind his desk. He gestured to a chair and Hermione sat as well. “There are many things to be said about two witches or wizards having their Patronus take similar, if not the same, shape. They may be related or hold similar things dear to them. Their wands may have the same core. But, most of the time, when two people have the same Patronus, it means that one of them, if not both, are. . .in love.” Hermione swallowed with great difficulty. “Do you know of two people who have the same Patronus, Miss Granger?” He peered at her over his spectacles, his blue eyes showing his age, yet also his wisdom.

She opened her mouth slowly and shook her head. “No, no I don’t. I was just. . .curious.”

“Alright.” She felt it in his gaze; he knew she was lying. “If. . .you don’t mind my asking, why aren’t you in London with your family?”

“They had made plans with my aunt, plans they couldn’t. . .get out of,” she admitted.

“And you did not go with Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley to the Burrow?” He was frowning, unsure how to put these pieces of information together.

“No. . .no, I did not.”

“Well, perhaps a trip home is what you need.”

“There’s no one at my home, sir.”

“Not your house, to London. Go see a play or something.”

“I’m. . .sorry, sir?”

“Why don’t you use the Floo in Professor McGonagall’s office, I’m sure she won’t mind.”

“You’re. . .letting me go to London?”

“It seems like you need a break, Miss Granger.” His eyes were twinkling again. “Maybe take a friend.” Oh, he _knew_. He knew alright. There’s no way he would be saying these sorts of things otherwise. “Go tomorrow, for New Year’s Eve. I think it shall be quite fun.”

“O. . .okay,” Hermione said, nodding her head after a moment of deliberation. “Thank you, Headmaster.”

In all honesty, a trip to the Muggle world would be good for her; she missed the theatre and cars and _regular_ food. And she was sure Draco would enjoy it. She didn’t tell Dumbledore who she was planning on taking with her, but something about the twinkle in his eyes behind his half-moon spectacles made her think that he did. He always knew everything.

The next day, after profusely apologizing for rushing out on him, Hermione explained to Draco that Dumbledore was letting her venture into Muggle London for the evening and she wanted to bring him along. He wasn’t sure at first, but after some persuading that _may_ have involved a few kisses and promises of never leaving the Room on New Year’s Day, he agreed.

So now, Draco was waiting by the portrait hole, trying _not_ to look at the Fat Lady as she stared him down, curious as to why he was there. He wasn’t sure what Hermione had in mind for their trip to the Muggle world, or how she talked Dumbledore into it, but she told him to dress nicely, so he wore a grey suit with a crisp white shirt and black tie. He held a heavier jacket in one hand and twirled his wand in the other. What should he expect of their date?

(Wait, was this a date? Are they _dating_?)

As he shook his heads of those thoughts, he heard the portrait door open and turned to see Hermione stepping out of her common room.

She was wearing a simple black dress with silver heels and half of her hair was up into a clip with the rest falling down to her shoulder blades. Her makeup was light but flattering because in his opinion, she really didn’t need much to accent her natural beauty. Her lips were tainted with a reddish-pink colour of lipstick, making them more appealing to him than they already were. Her coat was slung over her arm and she was holding a little silver purse.

“You look amazing.” He said, emphasizing his sentiment with a slow kiss. Hermione grinned at him as they pulled apart and she took his wand out of his hand.

“No magic tonight, okay?” She whispered, letting their wands fall into her little bag, undoubtably charmed. He agreed, and off they went.


	7. Seven - Dive

_so don’t call me baby  
_ _unless you mean it  
_ _don’t tell me you need me  
_ _if you don’t believe it_  
_so let me know the truth  
_ _before I dive right into you_

They walked slowly to McGonagall’s office. Dumbledore had mentioned that the Head of Gryffindor House would not be in the vicinity tonight, but because Hermione - whilst alone - had never caused any trouble, why would she now? It was nice to see the school so quiet, so peaceful, and blanketed in snow that wouldn’t melt for two more months. The door to the office was unlocked and there was plenty of Floo Powder.

“Alright, so I’ll go first and leave the pub as fast as possible. I’ll wait on the corner that’s to the left of the Leaky Cauldron and then you’ll -”

“Hermione we’ve been over this, I got it.” He grabbed his hat that he brought and put it on his head. “What do you think? Covers the hair, which I think is my most noticeable attribute.”

Hermione smiled and chuckled quietly. “That does do the trick, I think. Okay,” she leaned up to kiss him quickly, “I’ll be waiting.” She grinned and stepped into the fireplace, grabbed some powder and shouted “Diagon Alley!”

As Hermione landed at the Leaky Cauldron, she straightened her dress and brushed off the soot. She quickly looked around; everyone else was already involved in their own celebrations, their own whiskey, their own loves. She kept her head down as she walked passed the bar and towards the brick wall that lead to London. She heard the Floo activate behind her, signaling that Draco arrived too.

She dawdled around the corner from the entrance for a few minutes, waiting for him to appear. She was too busy making sure no one around recognized her that she jumped when Draco’s arm snaked around her shoulders.

“So, what’s your plan?” He asked, his mouth close to her ear.

“Well, why don’t you just follow me and find out?” She grinned and took his hand. They walked a little down Charing Cross Road and Draco couldn’t stop looking at everything and everyone.

Once they were settled at a small table towards the back of the restaurant she chose, Hermione started asking Draco questions.

“So, have you never been to Muggle London?”

“Once or twice,” he shrugged half-heartedly. “I wasn’t supposed to, but I had a half-blood witch act as my nanny for a summer when I was about eight. I really liked her because she was the one who taught me all about the Muggle books.” He grinned at the memory.

Hermione smiled with him. “What was she like?”

“She was so cool.” He chuckled. “She was a Metamorphmagus, my cousin, I think. . .”

Hermione choked on her water, blinking a few times. “Uh, are you talking about Nymphadora Tonks?”

Draco was shocked that she even knew her. “Yeah, her mum is my mother’s sister, but when she married the Muggleborn, the whole Black family disowned her. I think she asked mum if Tonks could get to know me, so that’s why I spent a lot of time with her that summer. But then my father found out and got _really_ mad at Mum and I haven’t seen her since.” He paused and looked at her. “Do you know her?”

Hermione let out a breathy chuckle. “Know her? I _love_ that woman. Tonks is a member of the Order, she was there in the Ministry last May, she and Remus Lupin are in love, but he won’t -”

“The werewolf professor?” She showed her annoyance through raised brows and a frown. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, “continue.”

“She and Remus Lupin are in love, but Remus won’t do anything about it. According to Tonks, he thinks he’s too old for her, too broken.” The words were out of her mouth suddenly, and they just hung there over the bread and their drinks, halting conversation. Hermione wished Draco would say something, either to change the topic or continue the one about Tonks or the one about Remus’ idea that he’s broken. His eyes were trained on the bread in front of them, hands clasped in his lap, but when he spoke - finally spoke - he did so quietly and she had to lean in to hear him.

“He thinks. . .he thinks he’s broken because he’s a werewolf and he’s older than her, and. . .” he took a breath in and slowly exhaled, “therefore cannot offer her the things that she may want. . .in the future.”

There was an underlying tone in his voice, one that Hermione picked up on immediately. He believed those things about himself. Obviously, he believed those things about himself. The mark on his arm did limit the future he may or may not live to have.

“Does Tonks still change her hair colour?”

Hermione hesitated at the subject change, but began to speak again. “She changes a lot more than that, but yeah. We spent last summer with her, and Christmas too. She didn’t even mention you. . .”

“Most of the Purebloods refuse to believe in her existence because her mum is a blood traitor -” he actually said this term quite sarcastically - “but I still think she’s one of the greatest people I’ve ever met.”

“Who else is great?” Hermione asked, smiling into her glass of sparkling cider.

“Well there’s -”

“Are we ready to order, or do we still need some time?” The waitress interrupted, looking annoyed that she was the one working on New Year’s Eve. Not wanting to irritate her more, Draco and Hermione ordered their food quickly.

They sat in silence for a minute after the waitress left before Draco spoke again. “My mum is pretty great for putting up with my dad’s shit.” He groaned and rubbed his hand over his face.

“I take it she’s not a fan of his. . .status in this war?”

“Not this one nor the last one, actually.” He sighed and rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why he returned this time.”

“Something about loyalty probably.”

“Yeah, but I have a feeling it’s more than that.” He shook his head. “Anyway, enough about my parents, I also happen to think you’re -” he pointed to Hermione - “pretty great too.”

She felt her face get warm. “I thought we already established that I don’t need to be buttered up in order to like you.”

“Oh, I’m not buttering you up, although that would be fun.” She threw a piece of bread at him as he laughed heartily. “I’m being genuinely serious, you’re amazing. I’ve never known a person to be so mercilessly teased and still succeed the way you do.” Before she could respond he added, “And I don’t think I could ever apologize enough for the pain I inflicted upon you.”

She waved it off, finding it unnecessary to hold it over his head for the rest of her life (woah, the _rest_ of her life? let’s not go there). “At this point, apologizing is a waste of time, Draco. Feeling guilty is pointless and will just wear you down. As long as you are telling the truth, I believe you.”

“I am,” he said earnestly, reaching out to take her hand. “I am telling you the truth, I mean it.”

Hermione smiled at him and leaned over the table to kiss him softly. Shortly after their kiss, the waitress delivered their food. The ate in a comfortable silence. It amazed Hermione that the two of them could do literally _anything_ without speaking. They could read or eat or simply _sit_ and enjoy each other’s company. If she spent more than five minutes without speaking around Harry or Ron, they would immediate want to know what was wrong, even if nothing _was_ wrong.

They finished dinner and then Hermione led the way to the theater in West End. Draco was enjoying the hustle and bustle of the holiday, the chaos and the noise drowning out the thoughts and worries in his head.

They found their seats in the theater and had some time before the show began, so Draco asked, “When did you know you had magic?” Hermione laughed loudly at his question. “What’s so funny?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just so many people have asked me that question, I should almost expect it by now.”

“You don’t have to answer if it’s tedious.”

She shrugged. “Normally I just don’t tell the whole story because nobody really knows what I’m talking about.”

“Try me.” When she raised her eyebrows at him, he just nodded to encourage her to speak.

“When I was 8, there was this book about a little girl who had these powers of telekinesis, she could do things with her mind like. . .make her toys move on their own. She could just. . .make things happen with little to no effort. She was special, and I really wanted to be special. I sat in my room and stared at the bookcase for hours, willing the books to fly off the shelf and into my hands. And then they did.” She smiled and shrugged a bit. “I thought I was dreaming, that I had fallen asleep while attempting magic. But then it happened the next day when I wanted a cookie before supper.” She laughed. “That’s when I knew I was different, that I had something. . .special about me.”

“Matilda,” Draco said slowly, nodding his head.

“Matilda,” Hermione whispered as the lights began to dim in the theatre.

The play was a strange one, and halfway through Draco found himself more intrigued by watching Hermione as she watched the acting on stage. He leaned over and kissed her neck and her lips a few times just because he couldn’t help it - she was just so _goddamn_ _beautiful_ and she was on a _date_ with him and they were _enjoying_ themselves. She had laced their fingers together and smiled to herself when Draco tuned back into the play towards the end when the three actors started yelling at each other about true friendship.

They exited the theater and began walking around hand-in-hand. Although the people around them were loud and running around, they walked slowly and enjoyed the light snowfall.

“Are Muggles always like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like. . .” Draco gestured to a group of non-magic folk across the park whose singing was outrageously poor and walking skills were even worse.

Hermione laughed. “No, no, it’s just New Year’s, it’s a memorable celebration!”

“How can it be memorable when you’re too drunk to remember it?”

Hermione laughed harder. “Alright, that’s enough people watching for you. What do you want to do next? It’s only 11:15, we still have time before we have to return to Hogwarts.”

Draco hesitated before asking, “Where do you live?”

Hermione wasn’t sure if she should answer his question, but by now she knew he wasn’t going to hurt her, unless it was unintentionally. “Not too far away. . .why?”

“I’ve just never seen a Muggle’s house before.” He sounded so curious, so she just grinned, stood up, and offered her hand.

It was a short walk to her home, and since no one was there, butterflies erupted in her stomach the closer they got to the house. Was it clean? Did she leave anything embarrassing in her room? She slowly slid the key into the lock and turned.

The house looked almost exactly as she had left it last August. The couch in the parlor had a new throw blanket on it and the kitchen was less stocked but the pictures were in the same frames and the second chair at the dining table was still wobbly. Draco slowly wandered around the house, taking in all the knick-knacks and pictures of her as a child. He wasn’t too keen about the microwave, but the freezer was a wonderful concept.

Hermione turned on the television just to check the channel that covered the New Year’s events and chuckled at the sight of the crazy people wearing 1997 glasses and hats. Draco was astounded by the “people in the box” and started asking all sorts of questions like _how did they get in there_ and _what do you mean they aren’t actually in the box_ and _are you_ sure _this isn’t magic_?

Slowly, they made their way up the staircase and into her bedroom. The walls were still light purple and the bed was still made. Hermione watched Draco carefully, feeling almost vulnerable as he inspected her room and the things in it. She never realized how quiet of a walker he was or how small her room was until then, when he could cross the room in five silent steps. He pointed to the framed picture on her dresser, silently asking her what it was.

“That’s Dumbledore’s Army.” Her voice broke the silence and echoed throughout the room. “Collin took it for us on the first day of practice.” Draco nodded and picked it up to look closer. Hermione was standing next to Harry in the middle. The Weasleys stood with Neville, Dean and the Gryffindor Quidditch team, the Patil twins stood with Lavendar, Luna and the other Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs stood closely together. But everyone was smiling, excited at the prospect of learning real defense spells.

He continued to look around her bookshelves and she chewed on her thumbnail and sat at the bottom of the bed.

“It feels like you’re inspecting my life,” Hermione blurted.

Draco raised his eyebrows at her and put the book he was looking at down. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to know more about you. Does it bother you?”

“It terrifies me!”

“I. . .terrify you?”

“No! No no, no it’s just that this is my bedroom, it’s an intimate place, and I’ve never had a boy in here before.” She could feel heat rising to her cheeks.

Draco raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “We can leave -”

“No, we don’t have to, I really don’t want us to, it’s just. . .this is crazy! You know,” she stood and ran her hands through her hair, “this is, this is crazy, what we’re doing. We’re on a date!” She started laughing nervously. “We’re on a date and I’m enjoying myself. It’s crazy!” Draco didn’t know what to say; he was afraid that saying anything would cause her to change her mind and force their early return where they could no longer spend time together. “I have feelings for you and I, I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing but what I’m concerned about is the fact that I don’t seem to care! I don’t care if I’m doing the right thing because I like talking with you and reading with you and laughing with you and damn you’re such a good kisser.” She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a breath. “But we’re in a war.” Her voice broke as she said this. “And I’m on one side and you’re on the other. You’re. . .” She gestured to his left arm and mumbled, “and I’m. . .” she finished by gesturing to herself.

Draco understood. He laced his fingers with hers and spoke softly, “Is that what’s stopping you?”

“No, what’s stopping me is that I can see it all. . .fall apart. I can see this whole thing unravelling because I pulled too hard on one of your threads.”

“Then how about we promise to be honest with each other? When we want to talk about something or when we _don’t_ want to talk about something, we’ll say it. We’ll keep boundaries, we’ll take it slow, we won’t run from each other. Hermione, I don’t want you to change your mind about us, but I understand that this is big, this is your enemy of six years asking you to give him a chance to show you that he cares you and wants to be with you.”

She looked up into his eyes, oh those shiny grey orbs, and saw the emotion behind his words. This was crazy, but it was crazy how much she wanted to show him what love could be like, how much good she saw in him, how much a person ( _she_ ) could feel for another person ( _him_ ) and how important it is to tell them.

Hermione was going to say something before they heard a boom outside. Their hearts stopped as they jumped to the window, only to discover that the fireworks begun because the clock had struck midnight.

It was 1997.

“How about we stay and watch the fireworks,” she murmured to him, “and then sleep here before returning to Hogwarts in the morning?”

Draco nodded, smiling unknowingly. “I like that idea,” he replied as he kissed her softly.


	8. Eight - Little Lion Man

_but it was not your fault but mine  
_ _and it was your heart on the line  
_ _I really fucked it up this time  
_ _didn’t I, my dear?  
_ _didn’t I, my_

The Daily Prophet was a pretty reliable source of information for all the witches and wizards living in the United Kingdom, even though it was controlled by the Ministry of Magic. There’s some good stuff in it, but also the blonde bimbo, Rita Skeeter, who still follows the gossip despite Hermione’s threats regarding her Animagus status. Many of the students at Hogwarts receive a copy of the paper in the morning via owl. Some even get the Evening Prophet, although the news may be the same from the morning.

Hermione, who likes to be informed regarding all things magical, receives it only once a day and reads it over her breakfast. Draco, who only gets the paper because his mum wants him to be informed, usually hands it off to Blaise or Theodore or throws it away. After the Mark Incident, as Hermione refers to it, she didn’t pay that much attention to her morning paper.

On the morning of January 1st, while Hermione and Draco were still asleep in her bed in Muggle London, the owls took the newest edition from the printers and set out to deliver them. The front page told of the wonderful celebrations that occurred the night before all over Wizarding London, but below the fold was a short story on Voldemort’s recent killings and what to do if you happen to see the Dark Mark anywhere in the UK.

On page six, below the fold and close the bottom right corner was a small little blurb written by Rita Skeeter. She claims to have seen the most interesting sight last night, but can’t be sure because of all the commotion: Hermione Granger passed through the Leaky Cauldron and not a minute later Draco Malfoy also arrived, _what?_ There were no photographs around the two-inch piece, there was no substantial evidence, the title didn’t draw anyone’s attention. . .

Except for Dumbledore’s.

It hadn’t escaped his notice that the two of them hadn’t arrived at breakfast yet. His eyes sparkled, his plan was working. He always knew they would be a good match, but he never thought it would begin without his own interference. Dumbledore was actually perfectly delighted when Severus came bursting into his office with Minerva following - and rolling her eyes - as he listed all the ramifications both parties would face if their relationship (he had cringed at the word) was ever brought into light, although Dumbledore would never mention it. Hermione was good for Draco, she is what he needs right now. She could get him to change his mind, because trust me, the only person who wants him to succeed in Voldemort’s task is Voldemort. After Minerva left, Dumbledore was standing by his Pensieve and looking at the memories glowing in their containers in the cabinets.

“Does Miss Granger ever remind you of Lily?” He asked Snape, who was slumped in a chair.

The question had caught him off guard and he had to think before he answered. “In some ways, such as her intelligence and her mannerisms, her devotion to magic and all living things. . .I just hope that Draco doesn’t do the same thing I did.”

“Oh good, so you _do_ see the similarities between them and you and Lily?”

“It’s hard not to,” Snape admitted slowly.

*.*.*.*

The morning that everyone was set to return Hermione received a letter from her parents. They had returned from their trip last night to find their home broken into and ransacked. There was no evidence of who did it. Their neighbours had said that it happened the new year, but they didn’t know how to contact them.

She ignored the concerned looks from Aspen and blew out of the Great Hall as Draco was entering it. Upon arrival at the Gryffindor Common Room, she frantically shuffled through the old Daily Prophets laying across the tables, trying to find a copy that may have any information for her.

When Aspen returned to the common room, she saw Hermione sitting on the floor, surrounded by papers and clutching one page in shaky hands. Aspen got closer and saw the moving photo on the page of a house with the door flung open and the Death Eater symbol splattered on the front windows. The potted plants on the porch were broken and the upstairs window was broken open completely with glass shattered on the roof. The headline read ‘MORE MUGGLE HOMES BROKEN INTO BY DEATH EATERS.’

Hermione couldn’t breathe. This was her house, _her_ _home_ , on the second page of an almost two-week-old Daily Prophet. According to the article, the house was broken into late morning on the first of the year by three or four males in dark clothing. The neighbors had called the Muggle police once they heard a commotion and saw colorful lights emitting from the house.

“Hermione, are you okay?” Aspen asked. Hermione shook her head and gripped the paper tighter. “Is that your house?” She swallowed and nodded slowly. “What are you gonna do?” She took a deep breath and, while still grasping the paper, left the common room.

Hermione felt like she was on a rampage as she tore through the corridors of Hogwarts trying to find Draco. She nearly knocked over a few of the younger Hufflepuff students as she exited the library, on to the final location he could be.

She threw the doors to the Room of Requirement open and barged in as loudly as she could. Draco, who had been sitting on the couch with his feet on the table and reading a book, looked completely startled as she stormed over to him and threw the paper in his lap. “So what, you get me to take you to my house and then you _tell them_ where I live so they can scour the place for information about who knows what? And why am I _just_ _now_ learning about this? I hear about it because my parents got home from their trip yesterday but it was in the paper _twelve days ago_? I can’t believe this!”  
  
Draco stood from the couch and reached a hand out to her. “Hermione, I didn’t tell them anythi -”

“Yeah right,” she scoffed, “this whole thing has just been a ploy to get to me so you can get to Harry and tell Voldemort everything!”

“No! ‘Mione, I am not telling anyone anything! I expected you to ask me about it last week, but you never did, so I figured you didn’t see it and -”

“You _knew_?!” Hermione screamed and Draco knew he said the very, _very_ wrong thing. “You knew that Death Eaters broke into my house, my _home_ in the middle of Muggle London, and you didn’t say anything to me? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” He didn’t know what to say. “What happened to being honest with me? You’ve been hiding this from me for a week and a half for what? To keep me safe?”

“It happened on New Year’s, we must have barely missed them!” He exclaimed. “Can you imagine what would have happened if we were still there -”

“They would have killed me because I was helpless and hopelessly infatuated with you!”

“They wouldn’t have just killed you, they would have killed both of us!”

“Yeah right, because they would kill one of their own!”

“If I’m doing the wrong thing, they would!”

“Right, I forgot, I’m the _wrong_ _thing_ you should be involved in,” Hermione said coldly.

“Hermione, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Well, what _do_ you mean?”

Draco didn’t answer her, he could’t tell her what he really meant.

She groaned and rubbed a hand down her face. “You know what, I can’t even look at you right now.”

“Fine, who cares anyway? Everyone’s coming back tonight and it’s bound to ruin everything!”

“Well, I thought we might be able to keep seeing each other, but if you think it would be _ruined_ then we might as well just forget it.” Hermione shouted, grabbing her bag from off the floor.

“Maybe we should!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Seeing as the two of them are stubborn as mules, both of them wanted to have the last word. Hermione let out a half-groan half-shout as she slammed the door and Draco threw the book he was reading across the room in anger.

And that was that.


	9. Nine - Water Under The Bridge

_if you’re not the one for me,  
_ _then how come I can bring you to your knees?  
_ _if you’re not the one for me,  
_ _why do I hate the idea of being free?_

_and if I’m not the one for you,  
_ _you’ve gotta stop holding me the way you do  
_ _oh, and if I’m not the one for you,  
_ _why have we been through what we have been through?_

As soon as the rest of the students arrived in Hogsmeade, Draco avoided Hermione as if she was the actual plague. Actually, he avoided anyone that wore any colour that wasn’t green or silver. Hermione was still angry with him so she didn’t give it much thought. But then it was Thursday, and he still didn’t even look in the direction of any Gryffindor, and she started overthinking.

They never discussed what would happen to their relationship when everyone returned from the holiday, other than during their blow-up argument in the Room of Requirement, but she _had_ wanted it to continue. How could he not want the same? When it was just the two of them, it clicked, it breathed, it filled up the room and swirled around like a river, it flashed neon colours, it sang like the birds, _it made bloody sense_.

While Harry and Hermione walked out of their last class before dinner on Thursday, Hermione asked him how the holidays went at the Burrow and if Remus, Tonks, or Arthur had any information for him regarding Dumbledore’s abrupt traveling plans.

“So tell me what Arthur said.”

“If Dumbledore _is_ traveling, then it’s news to the Ministry. But, what about this? That night at Borgin and Burke’s, Malfoy was looking at a Vanishing Cabinet.”

Hermione sighed, her heart picking up in pace. “What would Draco want with a Vanishing Cabinet?” She quickly realized she referred to him by his first name, but Harry didn’t seem to notice.

“I dunno, you tell me.”

Hermione’s head snapped towards him, her brows drawn together. She tried to keep her body from reacting to Harry’s words in any other way that would signal an emotion other than indifference.

Realizing it was just a saying, Hermione quickly diverted the conversation by saying, “He looks different, don’t you think? Draco? He almost looks ill.”

“Who could tell the difference?” Harry asked and Hermione had to bite her tongue.

They heard high-pitched giggling and a groan that only Ron could make on their right. Lavendar had placed a necklace around Ron’s neck, and he clearly wasn’t a fan. He was putting on a brave face for her though, and Lavendar threw herself into his lap and kissed him soundly.

At that, Hermione did roll her eyes. “Excuse me, I have to go vomit.” Harry suppressed his laughter as she walked away from him. She decided to take the long way to the Great Hall and because of that, she ran into the Slytherins on their way to dinner.

“Draco, why don’t I come over tonight? I’ve missed you so much.” Pansy Parkinson was whining in his ear, her hand curled around his arm.

“Pansy, why don’t you understand that I’ve said no to you a hundred times before so I’m going to say it again: _no._

She huffed and let go of his arm. “You’re no fun anymore.” He didn’t respond so she stomped off, hurrying to catch up with the others.

Draco continued to lag behind so Hermione picked up her pace to catch him. He must have heard her shoes because he turned around, saw her, and hurried to catch up with his friends.

Hermione had had enough by Friday’s Charms class. She was tired from not sleeping because she hadn’t slept peacefully since she received the note from her parents. She and Draco finished their work for the day at about the same time and he swiftly left the classroom without a second look at her. She left immediately after him, biding adieu to Harry and Ron and all but running out of Professor Flitwick’s classroom. Draco knew she was following him, so he picked up his pace, but she followed suit. Making sure no one was around to take points away from Gryffindor or witness what was about to happen, she drew her wand, pointed at him and cast the full body-bind jinx silently.

Draco let out a shout as he fell to the floor, holding his hands flat to catch himself so he didn’t break his nose. Hermione hurried over to him and flipped him over.

Looking him dead in the eye, she muttered, “We need to talk.” He tried to protest as she dragged him into an empty nearby classroom. He silently cursed himself for leaving his wand in his pocket and not ready in his hand.

She quickly locked the door and cast _muffliato_ in case anyone were to walk by. Leaning against the door, she could see Draco glaring at her from the floor and sighed, flicking her wand to remove the invisible binds. He stood, straightened himself, and looked expectantly at her. “Well?”

Hermione thought she might explode with anger. “So can we talk like adults, or are you just gonna stand there until I open the door?”

Draco banged his fist on the wall next to her and turned away. “Dammit Hermione, don’t do this, we can’t do this.”

“We can’t do this?” Her eyes narrowed. “ _You_ can’t do this to _me_! You can’t just act like this never happened! You can’t avoid me at every turn! The school isn’t big enough. You can’t just stand there and tell me that the last two weeks meant nothing to you!”

“I never said that!” He countered loudly, turning back around and wagging his finger.

“You never _said_ anything at all!” She shouted. “You’re making me feel like a blithering idiot for even thinking that you cared about me! Merlin, at least let me down gently!”

“I do care about you, Hermione!” Draco yelled back, grabbing her so she would look at him.

“Then start acting like it!” Hermione snapped, pulling herself loose. “Don’t pull away from me! I’m not giving up on you, on us!”

He scoffed, “Hermione, you made it perfectly clear that you hated me and wanted to end it.”  
  
“What, no! No, I didn’t!” She pinched the bridge of her nose and threw her hands up in the air. “I was angry at you, Draco, I didn’t stop caring for you! We just needed time to. . .cool off or whatever and then talk like adults but all _you’ve_ done for days is fucking ignore me!”

The use of profanity coming from Hermione’s mouth stalled Draco’s response. He swallowed and put his hands out in front of him, trying to reason with her. “I’m trying to be. . .logical. You know that we, we, we can’t walk around the castle holding hands or go on weekend dates to Hogsmeade.”

Groaning, Hermione said, “You don’t have to declare your emotions from the top of the Astronomy Tower Draco, but you could stop avoiding me. You may act like a jackass, but you don’t fool me, because I know you! And I know that this meant something to you!”

“I can’t give you what you want!” Draco raised his voice again.

“You don’t know what I want! You didn’t _ask_!”

“Well damn Hermione, I’m sorry, let’s try this again,” the sarcasm dripped from his voice like honey, slow and heavy, “what the bloody hell _do_ _you_ _want_?”

“You!” She screamed at him. Both of them stopped yelling at each other, breathing heavy, faces red. “I just. . “ she inhaled and breathed out the words, “I just want you,” as she crossed the distance between them to stand in front of him. Protests climbed their way up his throat but they died on his lips as she quickly smashed her mouth to his. He responded slowly, but enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off her feet. In their joyous reunion, her feet lifted off the ground but neither was her mind, body, and soul because it was long gone, molding into his.

*.*.*.*

It must have been a cruel joke to Snape when he scheduled his NEWT level Defense Against the Dark Arts class for mid-afternoons on Mondays and Fridays. As most of the sixth and seventh years filed into the dreary classroom, Hermione took note of what was already written on the chalkboard.

“The Patronus Charm?” She mumbled to herself, her brows drawing together.

“What do we do? Pretend we don’t know how to cast it?” Neville leaned in to ask her.

“That would be a big waste of time,” she scoffed. Most of the students who were in Dumbledore’s Army last year were also in this class, therefore they already knew how to cast the spell, and it is likely that Snape was already privy to that information.

Hermione and Neville took their seats behind Harry and Ron as various other members of the DA were scattered around the room. Of course, there were also prominent Slytherins as well, such as Draco, who was sitting in the desk diagonally behind Hermione, and Theodore and Pansy and others.

“Good afternoon, class.” Snape strode up to the front of the classroom. “Today we will be going over the Patronus charm, a woefully wonderful spell that can deflect a Dementor attack. It takes concentration, and skill, and if you don’t have either of those with you today, I suggest you leave.” Since no one was quite sure if he was joking or not, no one moved so he continued.

“I believe many of you already know how to do this particular charm, Miss Granger, you’re always so eager to show off your abilities, why don’t you show us how it’s done?” Snape drawled from the front of the classroom.

Oh, now it made sense. Dumbledore must have told him and now he wanted to make a scene. Might as well blow up the entire school; the outcome would be the same.

“Actually Professor, Harry is the one who is the best at the spell, why doesn’t he show the class?” Hermione suggested, keeping her gaze firmly on Snape while she felt Harry’s glare and heard him hiss, “Hermione what are you _doing_!”

Snape hesitated before turning slightly to look at Harry. “Well, Mr. Potter? Come on.”

Harry slowly turned to look back at Snape and sighed. “Of course, Professor.”

Harry produced his Patronus and the whole class, even Pansy Parkinson, was in awe. Hermione felt a swell of pride in her chest, feeling partially responsible for his success. Snape began to discuss form and explain how important a very happy memory is for the strongest Patronus. Hermione kept hoping that he wouldn’t make them practice the charm in class because Draco still had no idea that his Patronus matched hers and she doesn’t want him finding out in the middle of class. Luckily, Snape only had a few people try the charm, in addition to inflicting his own torture on Neville, who was still able to produce his Patronus, even though smaller than usual.

Hermione wanted to take a hot shower after dinner and before her late night patrol. Unfortunately someone was using the Prefect’s bath so she had to settle for the shower in her own dorm. She was only beginning to shampoo her hair when Lavendar and Parvati barged in.

“Hermione, what was with you in class today? You _always_ want to show off your magic.” Parvati wondered aloud while closing the toilet to sit atop it.

Hermione rolled her eyes, grateful the steam from the hot water was clouding up the doors. It actually happened quite often, these two barging in on her showers. “I just thought that Harry would be best suited for showing the class how to cast a perfect Patronus.”

“I bet that’s not all you think Harry’s suited for,” Lavendar giggled.

Hermione frowned and poked her head out from behind the shower door. “Excuse me?”

“Oh c’mon, you have to admit he’s rather good-looking,” Parvati gushed.

Hermione shrugged, closing the door again and returning to her shaving needs. “I can’t say that I don’t think he’s not attractive -”

“Oh, I knew it!” Parvati yelled, cutting her off.

“But he’s also my best friend, I don’t feel that way for him.”

Parvati slumped down on the closed toilet seat. “Alright fine, but what about Cormac? You took him as your date to Slughorn’s Christmas Party.”

Hermione let out a short laugh. “He’s an idiot.”

“Don’t you remember Parv, Hermione must have a smart boy,” Lavendar teased.

“Ooh, then what about Anthony Goldstein, one of the Ravenclaw Prefects? He’s smart and handsome, and even better, I’ve heard from my sister that he’s got a bit of a thing for you.”

 _Not true_ , Hermione thought to herself, as she massaged the conditioner into her hair. She and Anthony Goldstein had patrolled together before, and he’s pretty much an open book. He told her about his massive crush on Daphne Greengrass, but since she was a Slytherin he felt like he couldn’t open up to his friends about it or, god forbid, tell her how he felt.

“You should ask him to go out with you on Valentine’s Day!”

Hermione laughed, “Oh yeah?”

“Yes!” The girls exclaimed.

Hermione’s face curled into a sly grin as a plan began to formulate in her brain. “Well. . .I do have patrol with him tonight.” Lavendar and Parvati squealed in excitement. Hermione just rolled her eyes at them.

Later that night, as Hermione adjusted the Prefect pin on her robes, Anthony rounded the corner with a giddy grin plastered on his face. “Hermione Granger!”

“Anthony Goldstein. How was your holiday?”

“Mine was great, but clearly not as good as yours.”

Hermione raised a dubious eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Anthony’s grin quickly turned into a smirk. “It seems that you had an adventure, Miss Granger.” Hermione felt her face getting hot and started stumbling over her pretty pathetic excuses. At her stammering, Anthony lost it and started laughing. “I’m sorry, I tried to be the bad guy but I can’t.”

Now Hermione was really confused. “Wha - what?”

“I heard you and Malfoy in that classroom yesterday. _Muffliato_ only works so much,” he laughed a little at her pink face and ears, “you, my dear, are keeping a ticking time bomb for a secret.” She swallowed. He wasn’t wrong, it was a dangerous game they were playing, keeping the relationship a secret, but they didn’t really have a choice. “So, what are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna keep my secret. . .and so are you.”

Anthony looked shocked at her forwardness. “Excuse me?”

“I have an idea for a way we can all enjoy our Valentine’s Day.”

Anthony leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, “and what do you mean by ‘all?’”

Hermione just grinned.

*.*.*.*

It was late afternoon and Hermione was sitting at one of the tables in the back of the library, surrounded by piles of books. She was dutifully taking in-depth notes for Ancient Runes that she was completely oblivious to Draco stalking up to her with a big frown on his face.

“I heard the most interesting rumour at lunch today,” he said, trying to keep his voice down so he didn’t attract attention to them.

His voice startled Hermione but she quickly recovered and smiled a bit at him. “Oh really? What was it?”

“I heard that you’re going with the Goldstein kid to Hogsmeade on Valentine’s Day.” Draco desperately tried not to let his jealousy seep through his words, but he didn’t have very much luck.

“Oh, that’s not a rumour.” Hermione grinned, closed the book, and looked up at him.

“Ex-excuse me?” Draco spluttered.

“But you need not worry, I have a plan.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation. “As it turns out, Anthony saw us on Thursday, put the pieces together, but he promised not to say anything as long as my plan works.”

“So what’s your plan then?”

Hermione leaned across the table, grinning mischievously and whispered, “Polyjuice Potion.” She stood to return the book to its respective shelf and Draco quickly followed her.

“What are you suggesting?” He rested his arm on the shelf, cocking an eyebrow.

“Well, Anthony really likes Daphne Greengrass, so I was thinking the two of you could take the potion and we would be able to spend Valentine’s together.”

“Is that why we’re brewing Polyjuice in Potions?”

“No, that was just lucky timing.” Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’ve got it all figured out, it’s going to be great. You and I will be able to spend a romantic day together in the open and no one will be the wiser!”  
  
“Except Goldstein and Greengrass.”

She rolled her eyes. “They want to do this too, you know.”

Draco was still a bit weary about the whole scheme but he also wanted to spend some quality time with his girl without sneaking around. With a peck on his lips, he agreed. “When did you become such a devilish witch?”

Hermione smiled at him and giggled and he flashed her a smile that showed his happiness. However, they were quickly startled by the shutter and flash of a camera going off. Hermione gasped as she took a quick step away from Draco to look for the source.

Colin Creevey, now a really awkward fifteen year old, was standing with his camera behind the table, mouth agape and eyes wide. Hermione quickly approached him, but he readily took steps away from her. He had just shown off his new camera to her the other day; it was a Christmas present and Dumbledore charmed it so the pictures would move like they were from a wizard camera.

Now there was evidence.

“Colin give me the camera.” Hermione demanded, sticking her hand out.

“No.”

Draco stepped forward. “Creevey, I swear to Merlin -”

Hermione thrust her other hand up quickly to cover Draco’s mouth. “Colin, please, give me the picture. Please, I’ll do your Potions homework for a month.”

“Two months.” Colin was ready to bargain with her.

“Fine two months, now give me the picture, please.” Colin slowly grabbed the picture from the slot and handed it to her. She quickly snatched it out of his hand. “You cannot tell anyone.”

“I just don’t understand, Hermione. I thought the two of you hated each other.”

“Well. . .” she smiled at Draco slowly, “things have changed a little bit.” Draco smiled a bit at her.

Colin shook his head in disbelief, agreed not to say anything as long as Hermione kept her promise and left.

They both let out a sigh of relief when he finally left. Hermione brought the picture closer to her face for inspection. It actually wasn’t a bad picture, the two of them smiling together, the shelves of books behind them slightly blurred.

“Well, that’s not a bad photograph.” Draco whispered, kissing her neck.

“I agree, but there can’t be anything for some snoop to find. There’s already three more people that know than necessary.”

Draco nodded his understanding and kissed her cheek. “I’ll meet you tomorrow in the Room then, after DADA.” As he left, Hermione drew her wand to turn the picture to ashes. But as she watched it move, their smiles and laughter a continuous loop, their happiness emanating from the picture, she lowered her wand.

Maybe it wasn’t _necessary_ to destroy it.


	10. Ten - Night Changes

_going out tonight,  
_ _changes into something red  
_ _her mother doesn’t like that kind of dress  
_ _everything she never had,  
_ _she’s showing off_

_driving too fast,  
_ _moon is breaking through her hair_  
_she’s heading for something that she won’t forget  
_ _having no regrets is all that she really wants_

As the penultimate romantic holiday referred to as Valentine’s Day crept up on the Hogwarts students, everyone got more frantic. The professor’s were pulling apart girls during catfights and boys during punch-outs and couples in dark hallways at night. The entire castle buzzed with raging hormones and there’s literally nothing anyone can do to make the highly marketed holiday of Valentine’s Day just _go_ _away_.

There was no exception to the onslaught of hormones, not Ginny and Dean, definitely not Ron and Lavendar, and certainly not Hermione and Draco. Not even the single people, like Harry — or supposedly single people, like Hermione — could escape it.

It wasn’t that hormones made you a little more. . .boisterous than at other times — in the sense that if you had a significant other you couldn’t wait to jump their bones — it also made perfectly normal conversations a little more. . .obnoxious. Regular conversations that you could see in the hallways of Hogwarts now include a whole lot of yelling, flat-out sobbing, and drawing wands for fights.

Ginny was still trying to prove to her brother that she isn’t a little girl anymore and he really didn’t need to protect her from Dean any more than she need to protect him from Lavendar. Harry is still practically fleeing any room any time Ginny entered one. The former best friend relationship between Dean and Seamus is no longer; they don’t even talk to each other. Hermione talked to Seamus the other day while everyone was out at Quidditch practice, before she left for the Room of Requirement to meet Draco, and Seamus looked like a lost puppy, admitting to her that he felt as if Ginny took his place in Dean’s life. In addition to all of this, Lavendar always gushes about her and Ron’s latest. . .adventure whenever Hermione is in their dorm room. Although it is no longer jealousy that creeps up Hermione’s throat, it is now bile as the stories she tells are just purely disgusting and probably R-rated. Therefore, Hermione now finds herself desperately clinging to any pathetic excuse to leave the common room and not have Harry following her, so she can run to the Room of Requirement.

Regardless, the next class, which was the Potions class the one that Hermione, Draco, Anthony, and Daphne all had together, was the one where Slughorn would be testing the effectiveness of all the Polyjuice Potions brewed by his students.

The previously agreed plan was relatively simple and shall be carried out henceforth: Hermione will get to class early, earlier than Slughorn, and take two canisters full of the potion, one for Draco and one for Anthony (Daphne only agreed to do this experiment if the boys did the body-switching.) Anthony will stealthily take the canisters from her when he arrived to class. Hermione will then put her cauldron back and wait for the rest of their peers to arrive, including Draco, who will grab his canister of the potion from Anthony. Hermione noticed that Ron had lazily thrown his bag under the tabletop so it was half out from under the table and Hermione’s best bet to trip over.

When Slughorn arrived for class, he instructed everyone to grab their cauldrons and return to their seats carefully. The students began milling towards the back of the classroom slowly, but Hermione hung back.

“Are you going to go get your cauldron, Hermione?” Harry asked.

“I’m waiting for there to not be a massive hoard of people to trip over,” she nodded and smiled to herself.

“Smart,” Harry nodded and hung back too.

When there were less people there, Hermione and Harry ventured to get their cauldrons. Harry grabbed his first and headed back to the table, with Hermione following him. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She went the long way to her seat, so she purposefully stepped into the strap of Ron’s bag and lunged forward to drop the cauldron all over the floor. Harry and Neville rushed to help her up, while some of the Slytherin clan laughed at her.

“Oh, Hermione, are you ok?” Neville asked, holding her elbow to steady her.

“I think so, but my potion is ruined!” Hermione cried. “Thanks Ron, I tripped over your bag!” She added for a flare of drama. Draco could barely contain his snort of laughter.

“Oh Miss Granger, I’m terribly sorry you tripped.” Slughorn frowned, looking at the mess on the floor of the classroom.

“No professor, I’m sorry I ruined the project. I’ll gladly brew it again, if you’d like me to!”

“That would take another month. . .”

“I could write an essay about it!”

Slughorn thought about that one. Hermione writes well and it would be an easy thing to grade. But that would be too easy. “How about just the potion and we’ll also revisit the rules for personal belongings in the classroom, hmm?”

Huffing, Hermione returned to her stool. “Thanks Ron, now I have to brew it all over again.”

Ron didn’t say anything back, only glowered into his cauldron.

*.*.*.*

The professors always allowed students to go to Hogsmeade in the early afternoon or the early evening when Valentine’s Day occurred. The 15th was the Saturday after the red and pink hearts holiday and the four included in the Polyjuice Potion scandal decided to go in the afternoon because, well, it would be warmer. The wind had died down in the middle of the week and the snow had stopped the night before, so it was the perfect weather for a date in Hogsmeade.

“You look like a bloody Gryffindor in that dress.”

She smirked, a trait that she had most definitely picked up from him, and twirled a little bit. “That was the point, _Anthony_.” The red dress she had picked out was _very_ red. She did want to look good, but not outdo it, so she dressed it down with some basic booties and stockings.

Although there was an anxiety knot sitting in Hermione’s stomach, she was really excited about this date. It was real, despite the deception, and they could do what they wanted to do out in the open. She was nervous that it wouldn’t work, that they would slip up or someone would recognize his voice, but it wasn’t an overwhelming fear. In fact, the longer they were in Hogsmeade, the better she felt about the whole adventure.

“Hey, look at that, we’re walking around in Hogsmeade, holding hands, and no one is saying anything,” Hermione whispered and smiled at him.

“That’s because I’m currently Anthony Goldstein,” Draco whispered back.

“Oh shut up,” she giggled as they entered Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop. It was overrun by Hogwarts students and overdecorated with red and pink paper hearts plastered everywhere. Draco made a face and pulled her into a corner less populated.

They ate the special Valentine’s cookies that Madam Puddifoot made herself and Hermione had tea while Draco had a coffee. No one bothered them, no one at all, and Hermione was grateful.

They snuck out the back door and strolled to Honeydukes to buy some candy. Hermione had a soft spot for licorice wands and Droobles gum, while Draco enjoyed sugar quills and chocoballs. They also got some ice cream.

Every time Hermione was in Hogsmeade, she always wanted to go to the bookshop, but Harry and Ron never gave her the opportunity. Now that she was with Draco and both of them were book fiends, for lack of a better term, they headed inside. It was warmer and quieter in there, reminding her of their secret library. He let her take the lead, let her determine which aisles to explore, and she immediately dragged him off to the closest nook. He never let go of her hand and honestly watched her while she avidly skimmed shelves for books she’s never read instead of finding books for himself.

With only half an hour left of the potion, Hermione and Draco started the trek back to the castle. They were talking about the plans for the rest of the evening, which included dinner in the Great Hall and some time in the Room of Requirement. However, their conversation was cut short by Lavendar bounding up to them, a big smile on her face.

“Oh Hermione, you actually took our advice!” Lavendar shouted, completely disregarding “Anthony” and going for a hug.

“H — Hi Lavendar,” she chuckled at the girl’s greeting. She could see Ron approaching slowly, not looking very happy. “How was your date?”

“Oh, it was absolutely wonderful! We had a great time.” Lavendar giggled and kissed Ron’s cheek as he was now standing next to her.

“Hermione,” Ron said stiffly. He was clearly uncomfortable with another boy’s hand in her’s.

“Hi Ron,” she grinned back, his coldness not even fazing her. “I’m glad you had a good time. We did too, but it’s getting cold, so we’re heading back to the castle to warm up a bit.”

Hermione and “Anthony” turned and continued the trek with Ron and Lavendar following at a far enough distance where they could talk without being overheard.

“Well, he seemed rather annoyed that you went on a date.” Draco mused.

“He doesn’t deserve to be.” Hermione quipped. “He lost that right a long time ago.”


	11. Eleven - Sinking Friendships

_my lips are pale blue  
_ _my shivering half-moon  
_ _my last night’s slowest tune  
_ _is the end of the end of the end_

_we’re sinking friendships  
_ _we drown more and more_

Hermione ventured to breakfast early and alone. While Harry and Ron had a free period in the morning, she did not. She placed some oatmeal in her bowl and poured orange juice into her goblet. She was sprinkling cinnamon on top of her oatmeal when the Daily Prophet and a small folded paper landed in front of her. She thanked the owl with a piece of her toast and scratched under its chin before it flew away. Making sure no one was paying attention to her, she flipped open the small paper and grinned.

_Meet me at the Room, 7:30._

_— D._

Still smiling, she slipped the paper into her book bag and unrolled the Daily Prophet. Another Ministry problem, more cases of disappearing Muggles, and more murders that Voldemort and his followers were taking responsibility for, which made her frown and quickly glance over to the Slytherin table. He was taking with Theodore. He looked so much better than he did three months ago. He had colour again, he wasn't gauntly, he was actually interacting with his Slytherin friends. She was helping him, she was saving him.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Harry threw himself onto the bench across from her. He looked very, very angry.

“God, Harry, you scared me!” Hermione scolded him which did not improve the look on his face. “What’s wrong with you?”

"What's wrong? Hmm, let me see. Oh yeah, Ron almost died last night."

“What?” Hermione gasped. “What are you talking about?"

"That's right, you don't know. You were nowhere to be found." Harry's voice was ringing throughout the hall, grabbing the attention of anyone nearby.

"Harry, please, tell me what happened."

"He ate the chocolate frogs from my desk, thinking it was for him, but it was from Romilda Vane from Valentine's Day —"

"You still hadn't thrown those out?" Hermione asked, her voice sharp with disapproval. He glared harshly at her.

"They were laced with a very strong love potion. I took him to Slughorn and he gave him something to knock it out of his system, but said it would take a while. Slughorn opened a bottle of mead to share with us but it was poisoned. Ron drank some first and had a fit. He was in the hospital wing all night."

Hermione's heart sank to the pit of her stomach. Ron had been poisoned and she had no idea. After they celebrated his birthday at dinner, she had left to go study with Draco in their library and then they had patrol together, which usually involved more snogging than it did patrolling.

"Where were you?" Harry demanded, his voice echoing in the hall.

“I, I had gone to the library —" not a lie, she was in _a_ library — "and then I had patrol." Hermione felt like she was going to throw up. It finally happened, her secret life was interfering with her real life. Her desire for time with Draco was infringing on her mandatory time with her friends.

Harry snorted, shaking his head. "I can't believe that your job as a Prefect is a higher priority than your friend."

(I swear, the nerve of that boy —)

" _Excuse_ me? You think I don't care about Ron?" She hissed. "Don't you recall my decision to _stay here_ instead of going to the Burrow because it was too painful to see him even when he _isn’t_ with her? We only just rekindled our friendship, the feelings are still raw. So forgive me for not wanting to hang around and watch him make out with Lavendar all evening! Yeah, I decided to spend my night reading and then doing my duty to the school, but I _didn't_ _ask_ to be put on patrol. I will go see him after my morning class and apologize to _him_ , because he was the one that was injured one, _not_ _you_." She huffed and left an angry Harry Potter and an intrigued group of students in her wake.

However, Hermione’s guilt quickly caught up with her around the third flight of stairs to her classroom and she had to stop to catch her breath. She smiled a bit at a group of younger students as they passed to play off her impending panic attack.

She was so oblivious to her surroundings as she walked to class that she didn’t realize Draco was waiting for her against the wall until he dragged her into the broom closet closest to the classroom.

“Are you okay? What the hell was that —”

Hermione was only slightly recovered from her abduction but upon realizing that she was with him, she immediately started to cry and shook her head. He pulled her into his arms and held her as she sobbed about how she was a horrible friend and this was becoming too hard to keep secret and Harry was right about her priorities.

Draco was ready to wring Potter’s neck. He had only caught a very small amount of the very loud conversation between the two of them, but he knew that Potter was out of line. He knew how much Hermione’s responsibilities meant to her, why was he giving her shit about it? It wasn’t like he knew that they were a couple, he was just being an arse.

Kissing her forehead, Draco assured her she wasn’t a horrible friend. He was, however,scared that she would want to stop their relationship, their _amazing_ relationship, by the way she kept mumbling about it being too hard, but he knew that she needed to believe in herself more than anything.

Hermione’s cries began to slow down until they were only hiccups. She pulled away and wiped away her tears with the edge of her sleeve. Even with her cheeks streaked with tears and her eyes red, Draco still thought she was beautiful.

“You ... are a wonderful human being, and Potter was way out of line back there. He doesn’t understand your devotion to your books or your responsibilities.” Draco took her face in his hands and pressed kisses to her cheeks, nose, and finally her lips. He intended the kiss to be short because he had more things to say about his insert-any-positive-adjective-here Gryffindor Princess, but she took the kiss and ran with it.

Hermione was usually a submissive kisser, meaning she didn’t push the kiss into anything else (that was where Draco came in), but today, she was insistent and needy and ... carnal.

She quickly deepened the kiss and lightly pushed Draco back into the wall of the small, dark broom closet. His hands were tangled in her hair as their tongues battled for dominance. She rested the palms of her hands on his chest and withdrew her lips from his and peppered kisses along his jaw and neck, earning a growl from low within him. One hand remained in her hair, the other traveled down, down, down to her wonderful arse to press her against him. He quickly turned the two of them so she was the one against the wall and his leg slipped in between hers.

Although Draco was _not_ about to complain about a fucking _fantastic_ snogging session, he was a bit perplexed because he knew that they were definitely not going to do _that_ for their _first_ time in a bloody _broom_ _closet_. What was going through that beautiful head of hers?

“Hermione,” he said, not completely recognizing his own voice. She merely hummed in response, now pressing kisses to the skin that hides behind the collar of his shirt (when did that get unbuttoned —?) “Love, stop.”

That, Hermione understood. She picked her head up and looked at him with wide eyes almost begging him to resume their activities.

(Would it be okay if they missed Ancient Runes today?)

“What is going on?” He asked after clearing his throat.

“Well I, uhm,” she mumbled, trying to re-button his shirt buttons and tighten his tie, “I don’t know. I just really ... ” She glanced down quickly, blushing at the evidence of their kissing. “I want you.”

Draco found it increasingly difficult to breathe or move or think in the stuffy broom closet. “Then we should, uh, find a different location,” he said slowly as he tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Not right now,” she giggled, then turned serious. “We have class.” How does she turn it off that fast?“You really think I can go to class _right_ _now_?” He pointed a finger down with an eyebrow raised.

“Fine, you don’t have to go. I’ll find us a book or some spells or something.” Her brow furrowed as she wondered how Wizarding World practiced safe sex when it is so easy in the normal world.

“Wha —”

She shook her head and smiled at him. “Goodbye,” she whispered, kissing him once more and slipping out of the broom closet.

Draco let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and leaned back, letting his head _thunk_ against the wall.

Holy Merlin.

*.*.*.*

Hermione quickly checked out the first book she found, avoiding Madame Pince's eyes because she was totally _staring her down_ , and flew out of the library, desperately trying to hide the title from anyone she passed.

She was definitely still flustered, although it was more about her meeting with Draco before class than about her very loud conversation with Harry. She didn’t realize she had been craving his touch. She had begun to notice that now more than ever, once they started, it was very, _very_ hard to stop. It was natural, they were teenagers with hormones, with mutual feelings of affection, with an attraction that rivals that of magnets.

Shaking her head of wonderful thoughts about Draco, she headed down to visit Ron while he was still in the Infirmary, seeing as it was probably the best option. No prying eyes there. Turning the corner, Hermione only caught a glimpse of long red hair before she crash landed to the floor and the book went flying. She frantically scrambled to her feet, trying to grab the book before Ginny did.

"Hermione, hi." Ginny was surprised to see her friend and picked the book up off the floor, catching the title out of the corner of her eye. Her eyebrows raised and Hermione flushed red, moving to take the book, but she pulled it out of her reach. "Where were you yesterday? We couldn't find you and we were all really worried, but more importantly ... uhm, why do you have a book regarding reproduction in the Wizarding World?"

Hermione swallowed hard, trying to find an answer that didn't involve Draco in any way, but came up empty-handed and sighed. “Uh ... do you have time to talk?" She asked.

Ginny's brows drew together but she nodded affirmatively, handing Hermione the book. “Yeah, where?”

After putting the book safely in her bag, Hermione led her friend to an empty classroom. "We shouldn't be bothered here,” she said while casting a silencing and locking charm on the door.

"Hermione, what is going on? Does this have anything to do with why you have been acting so strangely since we returned from the holiday?” The girl in question didn’t answer, she only squeezed her hands together and bit her lip. "Hermione, please tell me what is going on or so help me, I —"

"I'm dating Draco Malfoy," Hermione blurted out. Ginny's eyes grew wide at her friend's confession. "And you can't tell anyone!"

While the redhead tried to form a coherent thought, Hermione shoved the book deeper into her bag, mumbling about the severe ramifications if anyone at Hogwarts _ever_ found out about their relationship.

"Ginny, this is very serious, I know you're probably thinking that I'm out of my mind or he has me under a spell or, or something but he doesn't, I promise." Hermione took Ginny's hands in hers. "It started over the holiday."

"You're ... you're shagging Draco Malfoy?"

"We have not shagged, Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed, a blush rising to her cheeks. “Well, yet," she added as an afterthought.

Ginny held a finger up in the air, signaling Hermione to _stop that thought_ before it went anywhere else. ”'Mione, can you, can you just tell me the whole story? Maybe, maybe I'll understand if I know how it ... happened.”

Hermione took a deep breath and told her best friend about meeting Draco in the kitchens on Christmas Eve and how they drank an inordinate amount of firewhiskey and the talking and him showing her the marvelous library in the Room of Requirement. She told her about waking up the next morning completely and wonderfully happy while snuggling with _Draco_ _Malfoy_ of all people, and how they had been inseparable until everyone came back and interrupted their time together. Then she told her that he was acting as Anthony during the date on Valentine's Day and all the other little secret meetings and dinners in the kitchens or the room or while on patrol.

To say Ginny was in disbelief was a severe understatement. Her best friend was in a committed and loving, albeit secret, relationship with _Malfoy_. Bloody _Malfoy_. Had the world gone mad? Had hell frozen over? But looking at Hermione while she spoke, the animation in her voice and face, the sparkle in her eyes, the smile on her face — _bloody hell_ — she was in love with him.

"Hermione, I know that you know that everyone knows that you are the smartest witch of your age."

“Well, yeah.”

“So, _what_ are you doing? He could hurt you in a second. He could be using you to get to Harry. He could be a Death Eater!" Ginny exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

Hermione tried not to flinch at Ginny's comment about him being a Death Eater. Instead she swallowed and shook her head, reaffirming Ginny that that was not the case. "Gin, I need you to believe me. I ... I love him, and I needed to tell someone who I knew would try to understand. I have been keeping this secret for three months, and I think I might explode if I can't talk about it with anyone."

Ginny smiled a bit, touched by Hermione's belief that she could keep this secret and be her confidant, but was still unsure.

“But wait, I thought you were goin’ with Anthony Goldstein?”

Hermione giggled, “Yeah, no, that was Draco under Polyjuice Potion.”

“You — what? What? But I saw him with Daphne Greengrass, what on earth —”

“That was Anthony under Polyjuice Potion.”

“So they ... switched places?”

“Yes.”

Ginny looked even more confused, to which Hermione asked, "Do you want to talk to him? Ask him questions yourself?" while chewing on her thumbnail. "I'm sure he would be open to it, he knows how much your friendship means to me."

At that, Ginny laughed uncontrollably, finally able to grasp the whole picture. Her best friend was _in love_. She should be happy for her, not trying to make the situation more difficult. Hermione deserves happiness, and dammit, if it's Draco Malfoy who gives it to her, then so be it. "That won't be necessary 'Mione. I get it, I should be giggling with you over what he does for you or what he says that makes you laugh and asking the important questions like how is he in bed and what he got you for your anniversary. I should be covering for you with Harry and Ron, because there’s no way they'll understand the way I do." She smiled broadly at the brunette. "So tell me, how amazing is he in bed?"

"Ginny!" The redhead let out a laugh that echoed throughout the room.

"Oh come off it! I'm only jokin’." Hermione still didn't stop glaring at her. "I'm happy that you're happy. He isn't the person I figured you'd end up with, but uh ... c'est la vie." She shrugged.

Hermione's smile diminished a smidgen, understanding to whom she was referring. "I should go see him. Apologize for not being there. Is he as angry with me as Harry is?"

"He was mostly unconscious for the night so I don't think he knows you weren't there. I know he woke up at one point to see Lavendar fussing and crying and he just broke it off with her. I guess almost dying made him reassess his relationship with her." Ginny shrugged.

Hermione swallowed hard. He broke up with Lavendar? It should be a dream come true, he was free as a bird, free for her taking. But she didn't want him anymore.

"Do you ... do you think he expects me to ... " Hermione couldn't finish her sentence.

Ginny shook her head, noticing how Hermione's breathing started to quicken. "I think he's still concerned with recovering. He may not even remember breaking up with her."

But he did. When Hermione arrived at the Hospital Wing, Lavendar was there, screaming and crying and trying to get Ron to change his mind. But it was made up, there was no going back now. Lavendar left, tears streaming down her face, nearly knocking Hermione over.

"'Mione!" Ron was excited to see her, sitting farther up in bed.

"I'm so glad to see you," she said, sitting down in the chair next to his bed. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here last night."

"You weren't?" Ron asked, scrunching up his face trying to remember. "I don't remember much, just drinking the mead and then waking up a few times, one time I broke up with Lavendar — sorry you had to see that.” He made a face. “Where were you?"

"After the dinner celebration, I had gone to the library to do some homework and then I had patrol until eleven," she answered slowly. He nodded, accepting in her explanation better than Harry did. "How are you feeling?"

"Still a bit groggy. I'm happy to see you though." He grinned.

She tried to match his enthusiasm with her smile but felt too much like a fraud to put her whole heart out on the line. She couldn’t tell him about Draco, it would hurt him too much. Keeping a secret to protect someone is a good reason to keep the secret right?

Rationalizing her actions was _so_ much easier said than done.

*.*.*.*

Draco wasn’t outside the room when Hermione arrived, so she peeked behind the tapestry to see a piece of parchment skelo-taped to the wall. _Ask for a meadow_. Smiling, she did just that and opened the glass door that appeared.

Magic never failed to amaze her. The room wasn’t a room with four walls, it was an open meadow, covered in flowers and grass, and the sky was clear blue, unlike the actual sky outside.

“Hello love.” Draco greeted her with a handful of white daises and a kiss on her cheek.

Hermione smiled at him while sitting down on the blanket and holding the flowers close. “Hello.”

“How was your day after the adventurous ten minutes in the broom closet?” He waggled his eyebrows at her, but she didn’t laugh.

“I am still feeling horrible, and I even broke our promise.” He raised an eyebrow at her, settling down beside her and wrapping an arm around her. “I ran into Ginny after I got a book about ... well, you know, and she saw it and I couldn’t lie to her anymore. I told her everything.”

“Everything as in ... ”“Our relationship. Nothing about you, specifically.”

“Alright.” Draco shrugged and retrieved some chicken from the basket for the two of them.

“You aren’t angry?” Hermione asked after a moment of silence.

“Well ... I kind of told Theo about us a while ago,” he admitted.

“A while ago?”

“He covered for me on Valentine’s Day with Pansy. I kind of owed him an explanation after that. He said he knew something was up, I wasn’t a ‘moody git’ after the holidays.”

“Oh.” Hermione nodded. “What does he think about ... us?”

He shrugged again. “He knows that you make me happy. He isn’t into all the dark magic stuff so he isn’t very fond of my mark, so I guess he hopes you can help me stay out of trouble.”

“I mean, you could always become a part of the Order of the Phoenix. I’m sure Dumbledore would understand your desire to be safe from Voldemort.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it, Hermione.” Draco mumbled, taking a bite of his chicken.

She nodded, “Okay, we don’t have to. I’m sorry to have upset you.”

“I’m not upset, I just don’t like talking about it with you. You’re on the good side, I’m not, this is bound to end in disaster.” Draco sighed.

“Hey, hey, just because you have the mark doesn’t mean you’re on the bad side.” She placed her hand on his cheek to make him look at her. “I still lo - really care about you.” They hadn’t said ‘I love you’ to each other yet, but Hermione knew she loved him, she had for a long time now, and she really wanted this relationship to work. She didn’t want to scare him off. Even if they had to wait until the war was over to admit it to the world, it was okay.

Draco smiled, knowing what she was about to say, and squeezed her hand. “I love you, Hermione.”

Her breath caught in her throat and she thought she might cry. He said it and by the look in his eyes, he meant it. “Oh, I love you too,” she whispered, throwing herself on his lap and kissing him thoroughly. He responded in kind and frankly didn’t give a damn if they did it _right here right now_. He knew that the next week would be crazy busy, seeing as they had patrol for the next few nights and then midterms in their classes before the spring break, but he didn’t know how much longer he could wait before having his Gryffindor Princess.

Slowly they pulled away and rested their foreheads together. Hermione’s eyes were sparkling and she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her lips. “I’m ready for this.”

“I hate to break it to you, but we have patrol in an hour. I want to do this right,” Draco confessed. “You deserve it.”

She giggled and nodded. “Okay. Do you have a plan?”

“I’ll come up with one. What about after the Quidditch game on Saturday?”

“Sounds good to me,” Hermione whispered and kissed him slowly again.

“It’s a date.”


	12. Twelve - Unsteady

_Mother, I know  
_ _that you’re tired of being alone  
_ _Dad, I know you’re trying  
_ _to fight when you feel like flying_

_if you love me,  
_ _don’t let go_  
_if you love me,  
_ _don’t let go_

The best place to watch the sunset at Hogwarts was at the top of the Astronomy Tower. It was a known hook-up spot, truth be told. But as for tonight, after the Gryffindor victory, everyone was partying or they were sulking and the castle was pretty empty. Therefore, Draco and Hermione were able to sit together at the top with their legs dangling over the edge.

“Can you believe that Harry got hurt during the game _again_?”

“Yes,” his answer came quick but there’s humor in his voice. Her eyebrows are still drawn together, so he lightly pinches her side. The corners of her mouth turned upwards at his childish action and he takes it as a win.

“Let’s go,” Draco murmured against the skin of her shoulder, and Hermione looked at him through her lashes. Anticipation rising, she nodded slowly and they stand up together. Occasionally, they have to stop along the way to hide from other people or they simply stop to kiss.

They had been kissing and caressing for some time now, but when they tried to go farther, they broke out into giggles. It clearly wasn’t part of the plan, because when they met earlier before the Quidditch game, Hermione had made it clear that they were gonna bang. They’re giggling like idiots and she’s pressing her forehead into the crook of his neck while he’s trying desperately to catch his breath.

So for now, they were half-dressed, laying in the bed, staring at each other, drinking in the sight of one another.

“Ask me something,” Draco suggested quietly.

“You’ve never told me about ... your family,” Hermione murmured.

“That wasn’t a question.” She doesn’t respond, move, or even blink. “Well, there’s not much to tell that is good,” he replied, gently rubbing his hand back and forth on her shin.

“It doesn’t have to be the bad stuff,” the words come out rushed, “I mean, I understand if you don’t want to talk about it ... ”

He sighed, “It’s just that my family is devoted to the person who —”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You know it’s okay.”

Draco laid his head back against the pillow and slowly started to speak. “My mother doted on me a lot when I was a kid, like it was always her job to make me happy. I mean it is, but she took it to an ... extreme. She didn’t work, she left that for my father, but she would do events and parties for other pureblood families.”

“So the Malfoy Manor was a place for parties?”

He grinned at her look of major confusion. “Yeah, it was spectacular. Mum knew how to throw a party.” He chuckled and Hermione smiled at his openness. “So I spent the first ten years of my life being groomed for pureblood society, you know, the one with the ideas about Muggleborns and Pureblood families who married into or had children with Half-Bloods or Muggleborns. I accepted this information because I had no idea that this knowledge was a ridiculous frame of mind.”

“Draco —”

“I know, it’s okay,” he quotes Hermione’s favorite saying, “but you have to know that I have changed.”

“You have changed, I know that, you wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t,” Hermione whispered, cradling his face in her hand. He turned to kiss her palm and continued talking.

“Even though my mum was at home, she wanted me to have some schooling before Hogwarts, so she hired tutors and nannies for me. Ironically, the tutors were more scared of my dad than anything,” he smiled, and Hermione didn’t fail to notice that he called his father “dad.” “I mean damn, his representation precedes himself. But she always followed him, no matter what he was doing. She fell in love with him at Hogwarts, even though he told her he was going to join Him after school. She made the decision to be with him, even though her mother said it was _not_ a good idea. She was all for blood-purity, but even He goes over the line.” He pauses, thinking about his next statement.

While he is gathering his thoughts, Hermione watches the moon cast shadows over his face, adding to the somber tone their evening had become. She did want to be with him, in the entirety of the word, but this was so much better. She hadn’t anticipated his honesty, but she wasn’t going to stop him.

He resumed talking about his mum. “I think she misses her family. Yeah, she has Bellatrix, but that woman is a crackpot and was in Azkaban for fourteen years. They never felt like a family, I’m sure. Her other sister, Andromeda, who had Tonks, married the Muggle and they cut ties. But maybe she would want to talk to her again, be around some good guys?” He laughed. “She’s basically trying to be the only good guy in a house full of bad guys ... I think she wants to have family, her family ... Death Eaters aren’t her real family.”

They laid together in silence for a while, just listening to each other’s breathing patterns.

“What about Lucius?”

Draco sighed slowly. “He is in Azkaban, because he is ... overcome by the thought that he is doing the right thing by working with Him to eradicate Muggleborns. He was His go-to man during the first war, and he returned to Him again. But he screwed up too many times, and now I’m marked, and I’m sure it was to just torture him. This second war thing has taken a toll on his parenting abilities, even if he wasn’t in Azkaban, it wouldn’t be good. He can’t contact me, but Mum sees him and she relays messages from him, but I don’t take the bait. Why would I? It’s shit, he’s shit, it’s all a shitty situation,” he takes a breath in and slowly lets it out and shakes his head, “well, he’s not shit, he’s just trying to do his best in a time where everything’s shit.”

Hermione squeezed his hand to reassure him.

“You know, I used to love the manor. It wasn’t all dark and dreary like it is now, it used to be magnificent, especially when decorated for a party. There was a place to explore around every corner, but now every corner is dark and scary, so I won’t be exploring any time soon. I stick to my room, the kitchen, the dining room, and the library. I’ll go outside on good weather days, sit in the garden to get good fresh air.”

“So you stayed at Hogwarts over Christmas Break to escape the manor?”

There was a long pause as Draco determined what to say. “Yeah, kind of. I mean, my mum didn’t _not_ want me at home, I would have loved to see her.”

“You’re really close to her then?”

“She used to ... tuck me in at night, read me story, smile all the time ... it’s sad to see her like this. I get so ... _angry_ with Father for dragging us into this mess. So angry. But I can’t so anything to stop it, not without being a rat.”

“I ... understand.” What else was she going to say? She felt like one too, keeping his a secret from her friends, keeping their relationship a secret from her friends.

“I miss the old days, when I would see my dad come home from the Ministry and I’d run to him all happy ... I wish I still had the reverence to him like he does to ... Voldemort.”

It was the first time in their relationship that he said his name. She almost flinched away, but hearing Harry say it all the time has prepared her. He really had more layers and thoughts than she had expected. She had certainly not expected him to say so much about his family and predicament with the Dark Lord. It was new territory, knowing so much, but she still felt like there were so many things they hadn’t talk about — couldn’t talk about — until the war was over. She knew he had been branded with the Dark Mark for a purpose, Harry beat that into her head at least once a week, but for a purpose unknown. Looking at Draco’s face again, she saw his eyes were closed and mouth hanging slightly open: his cute sleeping face. She smiled to herself and pulled the sheet up from the bottom of the bed to cover themselves. She snuggled against his chest and his heavy breathing and heartbeat lulled her to sleep.


	13. Thirteen - Another Place

_so don’t make  
_ _promises to me that you’re gonna break  
_ _we only ever wanted one thing from this  
_ _don’t paint  
_ _wonderful lies on me that wash away  
_ _we only ever wanted one thing from this  
_ _oh, in another place_  
_in another time  
_ _what could we have been?_

The sun’s first rays tickled Draco’s face the next morning and he shifted his head, completely unwilling to move from this bed, this room, this happiness. He opened his eyes and squinted through the brightness. He felt Hermione’s arm resting on his torso, her hand curled around his hip. Her head rested on the side of his chest and one of her legs was in between his. He could feel her stomach move every time she breathed in and out and her took a deep breath as he thought about last night.

He had never been so honest with someone before, so vulnerable. He was amazed at how gentle and supportive she was, when he really shouldn’t have been because she’s always been this wonderful. He probably shouldn’t have told her some of the things he did, like about his father and their thick ties with Voldemort.

Draco sighed and moved his hand into Hermione’s hair to run his fingers through it slowly. He had to fulfill this task or Voldemort would kill him and his family, and he didn’t want to be the reason why his mother was killed. Glancing down at his arm, the mark wasn’t moving or a dark black hue so he was safe. It hadn’t moved since right before school resumed in January, when Voldemort requested a status update.

Looking back down at Hermione, Draco realized they didn’t do what they came to the Room of Requirement to do. He was still wearing his boxer shorts and undershirt and Hermione still had on a t-shirt over her bra and panties. He could feel her breasts pushed against his side and feel her smooth skin of her stomach and hips under her shirt. It energized him, it delighted him, it aroused him to feel her body pressed against his, and he couldn’t wait anymore.

(She really needed to wake up.)

As if reading his mind, or hearing the increase of his heartbeat, Hermione stirred and let out a content little “mmm” before opening her eyes and picking her head up to look at Draco. She noticed his pupils dilated instantaneously and his grip on her hip tightened slightly. She could feel his thumb stroking the skin on her hip above her panties and it was like someone flicked on a lighter inside her body. His gaze was intense, his breathing was shallow, he waited for her to say something — _anything_ — but she didn’t. Instead, she slid her body on top of his and kissed his cloth-covered chest slowly, making her way up. She hesitated before kissing his lips and, looking down at him with hooded eyes, she murmured, “Let’s finish what we started.”

*.*.*.*

Spring Break was wonderful for Hermione. She was able to finally spend time with her parents after who knows how many months away from them. With the impending war between Voldemort and the rest of the Wizarding World, it was nice to be a “Muggle” for two weeks. She used a microwave and watched game shows on the telly with her father and ignored the daily deliveries of the _Daily Prophet_.

However, she did _not_ ignore the letters that Draco sent every night. She would smile to herself at the owl that appeared at her bedroom window, and he would wait patiently until she was done writing a response as she didn’t have an owl herself.

A week into Spring Break, as the owl was taking off with her latest letter to him, her mother surprised her by saying, “So, who is he?”

Hermione was startled to hear her voice and whipped her head around to see Jean Granger leaning against her daughter’s doorframe. “Uhm, what?”

Jean chuckled and sat on Hermione’s bed. “Who’s the boy who has consumed your mind?”

Hermione snorted at the way her mum phrased it, but she knew that she couldn’t avoid the conversation. “He’s just a boy, Mum.”

“You don’t smile like that when Harry writes you. Your eyes don’t light up when Ron’s owl slams into the back door. He’s clearly not _just_ a boy.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “You’re right,” she said softly. “But it’s complicated. Harry and Ron don’t know about it. They wouldn’t … they wouldn’t understand.”

“Ah, so it’s forbidden,” Jean sounded amused. “Is he in that house that is sworn enemies with Gryffindor?”

Hermione’s blush was enough of an answer.

“And he writes letters?” The corner of Jean’s lips turn upward. “Maybe he’s actually good.”

“He’s great,” Hermione whispered before clearing her throat. “He’s great to me, at least. The rest of the school … maybe not so much.”

Jean chuckled and hugged her daughter. “So you’ve been hiding it for how long?”

“Since Christmas Break,” Hermione admitted with an apologetic look.

“Wow, three months! Good for you,” Jean nudged Hermione’s shoulder with her own.

“You’re acting like this would never happen!” Hermione exclaimed and Jean laughed.

“Well, you’re so dedicated to your learning that I didn’t know when you would finally notice _boys_.”

“Mum!”

*.*.*.*

“Can we make this room warmer?”

Draco looked at her quizzically. She already had a blanket wrapped around her and wore a thick sweater, and the fire was going strong. It really wasn’t that cold outside, it’s _April_. “Hermione ... are you cold?”

She yawned and nodded her head. He grabbed another blanket and handed it to her. She took it and added it to her fuzzy exoskeleton. On a hunch, he leaned down to place a hand on her forehead.

“You’re sick.”

“No I’m not, I’m just cold,” she denied his statement, fiercely shaking her head. There was no way she was sick, she does _not_ get sick.

“‘Mione, I felt your forehead, you are burning up! I can feel the heat radiating off of you over here. You have to have a fever. Please let me take you to Pomfrey.”

“I’m fine!”

“You’re not fine if you pronounce ‘fine’ with a ‘d’ on the end of it.” She glared sharply at him and he sighed. “Can I just take you to the Infirmary?”

“Draco, it’s not —”

“Hermione,” Draco cut her off, “you need to go and I’m taking you.”

It didn’t take much effort for Draco to pick her up off the couch and place her on her unstable feet. She sighed with annoyance but allowed him to drag her to the Hospital Wing.

“Well, Miss Granger, if you had never made your way to the Infirmary, you probably wouldn’t have made it.” Madame Pomfrey declared.

Hermione’s mouth dropped open, and she turned to Draco in shock and then back to Madame Pomfrey. “But, I thought you said it was just the flu!”

“No dear, I said it is the _Wizard_ Flu. It has symptoms much like the influenza that afflicts Muggles, but carries a sly and threatening aspect. Your immune system is attacked by the immune system, killing the white blood cells that protect your body.” Madame Pomfrey explained while checking Hermione’s blood pressure.

“Oh,” Hermione said meekly.

“But, on the bright side, once you have it, you can never have it again!”

“Goodie.”

“I’ll be back with another potion, try not to fall asleep on me now, although it might be tempting.” Madame Pomfrey turned and hurried away to grab another bottle from her office.

“See? You _are_ sick.” Draco teased, patting Hermione’s arm.

“Shut up.” She rolled her eyes and yawned, her eyelids briefly drooping closed.

“Hey now, no sleeping yet, remember?” Even with her eyes closed, she still found his arm and pinched it to show off her annoyance.

“I sure hope you aren’t planning on being a Healer Miss Granger,” Madame Pomfrey noted as she returned with the potion. “Mr. Malfoy here, now, he would be good at it.”

This caught Draco off guard. “Me? I couldn’t possibly —”

“Yes, of course, you’ve got a trained eye and a mind built for it. Clearly you knew what was wrong with Miss Granger, and I know you’ve done the same thing with other students prior to this incident.” Draco looked uncomfortable that she was suggesting such a career move. “Tell me, do you happen to read medical journals or anything of the sort?”

“Uh —”

“He does,” Hermione chimed in before drinking the rest of the potion.

“Oh good, you’re already showing curiosity and initiative.”

“Madame Pomfrey, I can assure you that me being a Healer wouldn’t work out,” Draco scoffed.

“And why not?”

“I ... I don’t think anyone would trust me.”

Hermione made a noise that sounded like a sad little ‘aw’ as she understood what he was trying to say.

“Nonsense. It only takes one act to turn the family name around, no matter how deep a pile of ... ” Hermione’s deer-in-the-headlights look probably stopped the older woman from continuing. “Pardon me, that was a bit over the line.”

“You’re not wrong.” Hermione murmured, looking at Draco.

There a small moment of silence before Pomfrey told Hermione, “You should go to sleep, Miss Granger. You’ll be staying here until the week is up.”

“The whole week?” Hermione panicked — she couldn’t miss school for that long! — but she had to admit, she was exhausted.

“I’m sure you can get your notes from a friend ... or two.” She glanced at Draco over the rims of her glasses, much like Dumbledore does.

As she walked away, Draco leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. “So d’you think the professors talk about us when they’re all together?”

Hermione began to laugh, but it turned into a coughing fit. After drinking some water, she nodded and said, “There’s probably some betting goin’ on too.” After a beat, she added, “You seem woefully unconcerned about that prospect.”

He shrugged, “I’m more concerned with my girlfriend getting the Wizard Flu.”

She giggled at the use of _girlfriend_ and quietly shushed him as there was _one_ other person residing in the Hospital Wing. “So you’ll bring me all the notes for class?”

He rolled his eyes but nodded.

She smiled and closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep much faster than she thought she would.

Even though Draco had things to do and many of those things were due the next day, he stayed in the uncomfortable chair next to her bed for an extra hour just to watch her sleep. He found it nearly impossible to leave her side, even after Pomfrey kicked him out.

Man, he knew he was in love, but he was _whipped._

*.*.*.*

After smoothing her hair and readjusting her skirt, Hermione creaked open the door of the broom closet and took a peak out. No one seemed to be in the corridor so she grabbed her bag and headed to class which was only around the corner.

She smiled at Neville as she sat down next to him. He did a quick double take and cleared his throat quietly. “Uh, Her-Hermione?”

“Yes?” She asked, peering into her bag to get her notes. When he didn’t answer, she shot a look in his direction with her eyebrows raised.

His eyes were wide as he pointed to his tie while glancing down at his and over at hers. She frowned and looked down.

Her tie was not red and gold.

It was green and silver.

Hermione’s eyes widened and she looked back up at Neville. His mouth was agape and he was shaking his head as if to say I- _don’t_ -understand- _what_ -huh- _why_?

“Don’t say anything.” Hermione whispered as she quickly untied the tie from her neck and stood abruptly. She basically ran back to the broom closet and shoved Draco back in as he had been trying to leave to _get his damn tie back_.

“You took my tie.”

“I have your tie.”

Draco and Hermione spoke at the same.

“Neville was the one who pointed it out,” Hermione sighed as she handed him his tie.

“Oh great, now Longbottom knows?” Draco groaned as he frantically tied his tie.

“I’m not entirely sure what he comprehended in that short minute,” Hermione snapped, but then she sighed to calm down. “I will ask him after class.”

“You will ask him _during_ class.” She hit him with her book bag and rolled her eyes. “‘Mione, I’m serious! You need to talk to him!”

Although she hated interrupting Professor Binns’ lectures — she hated interrupting _any_ lectures — she knew that Draco was right. She had to talk to Neville.

“Neville, I need you to tell me what you’re thinking.”

Neville glanced at her with wide, confused eyes and continued to write his notes. “Hermione, I, I — I don’t care what you do with your free time, but with a _Slytherin_?” He hissed.

She tried not to react to the blatant disgust in his voice, but she spoke with an edge, “Why does it matter? Not all Slytherins are ‘evil.’”

“I don’t — I think — it just gives me a bad feeling!”

“Well, I didn’t realize it was _your_ relationship!” Hermione whisper-shouted. “I’m enjoyin’ myself. Is that so bad?”

Neville’s eyebrows furrowed and frowned. He knew how much she does for Harry and Ron and how little time to herself that she gets. Realizing his uncharacteristic house hatred, he shook his head. “‘Mione, just be careful. They may not all be evil, but most don’t have the greatest attitude. They’re always leading some back alley plan.”

_You have no idea_ , Hermione thought sarcastically. “Are you going to tell anyone?”

Neville shrugged, but glanced ahead of them at Harry and Ron. “It’s not for me tell. But, seriously, be careful.”

*.*.*.*

“Do you know what today is?”

“Mmmm, Thursday?”

Draco sighed, took the book from her hands, and put it on the table in front of the couch in the Room. Hermione looked at him, eyebrows raised, expecting an explanation. He doesn’t move to say anything, so she removes her legs from his lap and sits up on the couch. “What is today, Draco?”

“It’s the 24th,” he uttered it so quietly. “It’s been four months.”

Realization dawns on her and she immediately feels like an idiot. They have been … doing whatever it is that they have been doing … for four months. “Oh no, I didn’t realize, I —” she heaved a sigh and started to continue, but he interrupted her.

“No, we, we didn’t talk about it. I just assumed, because a lot of girls, like for example Pansy, would count down the days to an anniversary because it meant getting a gift.”

“You got me a present?” She asked in a small voice, but a smile blossomed on her face.

He grinned and reached into his book bag to grab a little box with a red bow around it. Her eyes lit up in delight as she took the box in her hands. She untied the bow, but stopped short, “But I didn’t get you anything!”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Just open the box, ‘Mione.”

She giggled before opening the lid of the box. Inside the box was a silver necklace with a long-stemmed rose charm attached to the chain. The rose bud was a deep ruby red while the stem was shiny silver. There was also a small silver capital ‘D’ resting on the chain too.

It was truly beautiful.

“If, uh, if you want to keep it, we can charm it so it doesn’t look like a ‘D’ to other people.”

Sniffing, Hermione wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. “I love it.” She felt his body relax as he hugged her back and kissed her forehead. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he murmured against her hair.

*.*.*.*

It had been a dramatically long week, and all Hermione and Draco wanted was each other. Luckily, (although it wasn’t because of luck but rather the fact that the Heads had found them in a very compromising position a few weeks prior) they had patrol together but they didn’t plan on doing patrolling very much, if any at all.

Giggling as Draco kissed her neck, Hermione opened the closest broom closet as quickly as she could. She pushed open the door only to reveal a sight she certainly hadn’t seen before in her life.

Inside the broom closet was Dean and Seamus, partially dressed and snoggin’ as if their life depended on it. Hermione’s half-gasp, half-I-don’t-know-what echoed throughout the closet and the sudden light forced the boys to opposite sides of the small room.

Chests heaving, Dean and Seamus took in the sight before them with wide eyes. Draco’s arms were around her waist, his lips has just been on her neck, one of Hermione’s hand was certainly _not_ in a PG place. “Holy shit,” the boys muttered at the same time.

“Oh my God.” Hermione quickly closed the door and turned around and stepped out of Draco’s grasp to look up at him with shock. He looked like he was about to explode with laughter. “What is so funny?”

Draco’s laughter bounced on the walls in the hallways. “I’m just … this is absurd. Here we are, about to shag in a closet, and you just happen to open the one closet that is taken by two of Potter’s roommates! And now they know. When is it going to end?”

“I … I don’t know, Draco. Maybe we’re just not being careful enough. I don’t know — I don’t know what to say!”

The door creaked open behind them. Hermione crossed her arms and Draco leaned against the wall. Dean and Seamus stepped out of the closet, fully dressed and retying their ties. “To be fair, you could’ve picked any closet and I’m sure at least two people would be in it right now.” Seamus said, grinning lopsidedly.

“It’s May, everyone’s going at it like bunnies,” Dean added.

“Dean,” Hermione sighed, and Draco couldn’t suppress his smirk.

“Listen … we don’t want anyone to know about us.” Dean admitted quietly.

“No, don’ say that,” Seamus interrupted him, “I am not ready for anyone to know yet.”

“Seamus,” Dean chided.

“Boys, if you don’t want us to say anything, we won’t,” Hermione stopped their odd bickering about their relationship.

“But …” Draco added, “We would also appreciate it if you didn’t say anything about us.”

“Yeah, okay, but what the _fuck_ Hermione?” Seamus agreed to Draco’s terms, but then he turned his attention to the Gryffindor. “What are you doin’? Aren’t you supposed to be the smartest witch of your age?”

“Hey!” Draco yelled. “Don’t be such a git Finnigan.”

“Draco, it’s fine.”

“Shay, don’t be mean.” Dean interfered.

“But —”

“Shay.”

Seamus looked between the three people in front of him, two of which he revered daily, one he hated daily. Dean, because he’s his best friend (and lover too), and Hermione, because she was truly the smartest person he knew.

He heaved a sigh and nodded. “Okay. But if you hurt her, Malfoy, you’ll have half of Gryffindor waitin’ in line to beat your arse.”


	14. Fourteen - Never Be Like You

_I’m only human, can’t you see?  
_ _I made, I made a mistake  
_ _please just look me in my face  
_ _tell me everything’s okay  
_ _cause I got it, oh  
_ _never be like you_

_I’m falling on my knees  
_ _forgive me  
I’m a fucking fool  
_ _I’m begging, darling_  
_please  
_ _absolve me of my sins, won’t you?_

Hermione was on her way to meet Draco in the Room of Requirement, but had heard shouting and water rushing from the bathroom down the hall from it. She figured Draco wouldn’t mind if she was a little late, it was her job to stop two adolescent boys from having a little too much fun before dinner. But as she peaked in the door, her heart dropped to her stomach.

Moaning Myrtle was floating above Harry and Draco shouting “STOP!” as they kept throwing curses at each other.

There was a loud bang and the bin behind Harry exploded, and then he attempted a Leg-Locker Curse that barely missed Draco’s ear and bounced off the wall and smashed into the cistern. Water poured everywhere, Harry slipped and fell as Draco, face crumpled, shouted, _“Cruci —”_

_“Sectumsempra!”_ Harry bellowed from the floor, waving his wand in the general direction of Draco.

Blood started pouring uncontrollably from Draco’s body. It looked like he had been slashed several times by an invisible sword. He staggered backwards and tripped over a loose piece of wood, collapsing onto the ground with a magnificent splash and a thud. His wand fell from his hands.

It seemed as though time slowed nearly to a stop in that moment. It was kind of like when she was using the Time Turner to get to all of her classes, but so much worse. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t scream, she couldn’t breathe.

“No ... ” Harry gasped, struggling to get off the floor and over to Draco, who was clutching at his blood-soaked shirt. “No, I didn’t —”

“MURDERER!” Moaning Myrtle screamed at the top of her lungs. The sound of her shrill cry was what Hermione needed for time to snap back into reality.

“Harry,” Hermione gasped for breath, “what have you done?” She rushed into the bathroom and dropped to her knees at Draco’s side. Her hands shook as she placed her hands on his chest and pushed down, trying to apply pressure to all his wounds at once.

“I, I, I, I —” Harry stumbled over his words, trying to form a thought. He was trying to stand from the floor, but his legs and arms seemed to turn to jelly. He couldn’t get up. The water rushing around them, carrying Draco’s blood all over the bathroom floor and their clothes.

“MURDERER!”

“Go get help!” Hermione choked out, trying to draw upon all of her magical knowledge for healing charms. Unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to remember any. All she could hear was Madame Pomfrey’s words: _I sure hope you aren’t planning on being a healer._ Draco wasn’t one to be overly emotional, she had learnt that throughout their relationship, but as she saw the tears surfacing in his stormy eyes, she couldn’t help but begin to cry too.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. He shook his head and brought his shaking bloody hand to rest on her cheek. She clasped her hand around his and closed her eyes, breathing heavily as tears dripped from her eyes and left streaks through the blood.

“MURDERER!”

“Shut up Myrtle!” Hermione’s head turned sharply at the sound of Snape’s voice, making her and Draco’s hands fall into the bloody water, and it was only a blink of an eye before he was kneeling next to her. “Miss Granger, please move.” Her brain wasn’t comprehending what her professor was saying, but her body moved on its own accord. Her eyes were trained on Draco, who had stopped shaking but was falling limper and paler by the second.

Snape began to murmur the counter-curse and the pools of blood slowly diminished as it returned to his body. He said it again and the wounds began to stitch together. And as he said it one more time, the wounds closed completely but Draco slipped into an unconscious state. Hermione stood a foot away, hiccuping as her tears subsided. Harry was dumbfounded in the doorway.

“Miss Granger, please take Mr. Malfoy to the Infirmary. Tell Madame Pomfrey to give him Dittany to avoid scaring. I must have a word with Mr. Potter.”

She swallowed and nodded as he levitated the unconscious blond into the air. She grabbed Draco’s hand and gently led him out of the bathroom. Harry watched her leave, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Madame Pomfrey?” Hermione called out upon their arrival at the Infirmary, her voice wavering.

“Yes, dear?” The woman in question poked her head out from of her office but her face fell grim when she caught a glance at Draco. “Oh good heavens!” She rushed over to bring him to a bed. “What has happened?”

Hermione wasn’t aware that she was still shaking from the events in the bathroom. “He, ah, he was in a fight and was hit with a spell that caused wounds to open up all over his body and he just bled and, and bled and bled and, and, and, I didn’t know how to stop it! But then Professor Snape came and ... ”

Madam Pomfrey was checking his vitals while Hermione babbled on and didn’t notice when she stopped talking as the woman removed his long-sleeved uniform shirt, revealing the angry black Dark Mark on his arm. If Madam Pomfrey didn’t know about it before, she definitely did now.

“Well, Professor Snape did an excellent job at healing Mr. Malfoy. There isn’t much for me to do other than administer Dittany to keep the wounds from scaring.”

“That’s, uh, that’s what he said you should do,” Hermione nodded.

“When did he lose consciousness?”

“Sometime while Professor Snape was saying the counter-curse.”

“Well, hypothetically he should wake up soon, but seeing how his body mass is far below what it should be, it may take longer.”

“Right.” Hermione said softly, watching Draco’s still form as he slowly breathed in and out.

The elder witch smiled at them knowingly. “You may stay, of course, if you would like.”

Hermione smiled a bit, thanking her. She settled herself into one of the chairs by his bedside and pulled the sheets and blanket up his body, hiding the nasty mark from anyone’s view. Sitting down in the chair next to his bed, she realized that her clothes were caked in dried blood and her hands were stained red. She took a deep breath and used the sink nearby to scrub and scrub _and_ _scrub_ her hands with scalding hot water until she couldn’t tell if her hands were red from the blood or red from the heat of the water. She dried her hands and returned to Draco’s bedside.

Madame Pomfrey was applying the dittany to the wounds. “If you want to change out of those clothes, we can have the house elves grab something clean from your dormitory.”

Hermione nodded, for once not thinking about the elves. “That would be nice, thank you.”

Upon hearing the doors swing open, she whipped her head around, but she was relieved to see it was only Snape and Harry. Harry dropped the book bag that she had left in the bathroom at her feet and walked swiftly out without mentioning the spell, the terror in his best friend’s eyes, or the fact that she was standing vigil by his enemy’s side.

“He will be fine, Miss Granger.” Snape reassured her, the almost fatherly tone of voice foreign to her ears. She nodded her understanding. “The Malfoys will not be able to see their son until morning.” He added after a few moments, and Hermione knew what he meant: she could stay with him, undisturbed by outside sources, if only for a little while. She looked him in the eye and thanked him with the utmost sincerity for saving Draco’slife. Snape nodded his head once and left, so Hermione returned to her seat, but not before running her fingers through Draco’s hair slowly. He sighed in his sleep and she smiled, holding his free hand in hers.

As Harry walked back to his own dormitory, pants drenched with water and blood and every step laced with guilt, he thought about Hermione and Malfoy. To be perfectly honest, he couldn’t remember the last time the ferret had called Hermione a Mudblood, or any other name than Granger. He also couldn’t remember where she runs off to after dinner or when he and Ron are at Quidditch practice. He had always assumed she went to the library.

(Maybe wherever she goes ... it’s with Malfoy.)

*.*.*.*

Draco awoke shortly after midnight, the only light coming from a lantern next to his bed. Hermione was fast asleep in the chair next to him, no longer in her blood-stained uniform but one of her sweaters and jeans. His throat was dry and his body ached, but he was _alive_ and she had been _scared_ for him (which may have swelled his ego a little) but surely, if she hadn’t been there, he would’ve let Potter kill him.

It was too much, living with the Dark Lord in his house, asking him to get rid of good ole Dumbledore. He had tried many times, albeit unsuccessfully, but not because he was weak, it was because he didn’t want to. He finally admitted it to himself: he didn’t want to be a Death Eater.

Hermione shifted and yawned, opening her eyes a bit. She smiled when she saw his eyes were open and reached over to grasp his hand. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

He groaned and shook his head, pointing to the water cup. Hermione placed it in his hand and he took a few gulps, watching her nod her head somberly over the rim of the glass. “I’m happy that you’re here.”

“Of course I’m here, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because your loyalty stands with Potter, not me,” Draco mumbled.

She squeezed his hand, scooting closer to the bed. “But I don’t love Harry the way I love you. Seeing you there on the floor, bleeding all over the place, it — it terrified me. I didn’t know what to do, for the first time in my life. All I knew was that I needed you to live.” She spoke softly, afraid of letting her emotions take over her words. “I need you to live.”

He let out a breath and sat up on his elbows, watching her in the candlelight. He reached out to touch her hair and face and run his fingers down her arm, taking in every part of his Gryffindor Princess. Finally he looked into her eyes, smiling softly. “I love you, ‘Mione.” She matched his smile, her heart soaring even though he had confessed his love multiple times before.

She stood slowly, pulling the sheets up so he would stay comfortable. She mumbled something about him needing more rest but she couldn’t help herself, she needed to reassure him (and herself) that he was indeed _alive_ and she _was not_ going anywhere. She pressed her lips against his, placing her hand on the side of his face. He buried his hands in her hair, drawing out the kiss for longer than appropriate for being in public, but seeing as it was midnight and the Hospital Wing was empty, I think it’s gonna be okay.

*.*.*.*

Hermione didn’t really know what to expect when she walked into the Gryffindor Common Room at one in the morning, but what she found upon entering should have been her guess. Harry was standing in the middle of the empty room, staring at the open and moving Marauder’s Map in his hands. After Hermione slowly shut the door, she approached him and followed his gaze. She could see her little dot standing with his dot in the common room and far away from them was Draco’s black dot in the Hospital Wing. He must have watched her trek from Draco’s bedside to standing right behind him.

She didn’t say anything, only put a hand on his shoulder and touched her wand to the parchment, making the map and names disappear. He slowly turned to face her, his face devoid of any emotion. Smiling sadly, she let her book bag fall to the floor and pushed her hair away from her face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Harry’s mouth twitched, giving away the anger bubbling inside. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was quiet but there was an underlying tone of despondency.

Hermione scoffed quietly. “Tell you what, Harry? That I was dating Draco Malfoy, the _enemy ..._ behind your back?” He stayed quiet. “Harry, I didn’t tell you because I know you. I knew that you would’ve started accusing him of foul play or me of losing my head. I knew that you would’ve blown it _way_ out of proportion. I knew that _you_ would’ve blown up.” Hermione paused and fiddled with her tie. “I knew you wouldn’t approve.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that. “You don’t need my approval to do anything. You’re Hermione Granger, you’re the smartest witch of your age! I usually go along with whatever you think is right.” He paused, taking a moment to observe her face. “Which begs the question ... what the fuck are you thinking?”

Hermione shook her head, feeling the tears prickling behind her eyes. “I —”

“Hermione!” It was Ginny, descending the stairs at a rapid pace, but she stopped abruptly when she saw that Harry with her. She tried playing off her surprise by acting like her mother. “Where have you been?”

“It’s okay, Gin.” Hermione nodded at the redhead, clearing her throat. “He-he knows.”

“Ginny knows?” Harry asked incredulously. “How long has she known?”

“Keep your voice down!” Ginny hissed at him, stepping closer to him threateningly.

“Since the day after Ron’s birthday,” Hermione admitted. “Draco and I had an agreement, we wouldn’t tell _anybody_ , but I ... I was upset and Ginny’s the best girl friend I have so ... ”

“You were with him, on Ron’s birthday, weren’t you? We couldn’t find you —”

“Because I didn’t really want to be found.” Hermione finished for him.

“Where do you even go? God, Hermione I can’t even —”

“We always go to the Room of Requirement, okay? We ask it to be ... our private library.”

Harry raised a dubious eyebrow. “Your _what_?”

“On Christmas Eve, he showed me what he asks of the Room of Requirement. ‘A place where he can be himself.’” Hermione explained. “I opened the door and it was a library, with windows that overlook the grounds and couches that rival the comfort of the ones in here. We talked for hours, we drank far too much firewhiskey, we slept on the floor. We ended up spending the rest of winter break together.” She smiled, her eyes sparkling at the memory.

“So,” Harry said slowly, looking at the floor, “so you’ve been dating Draco Malfoy since Christmas.”

“Yes.” Hermione answered his statement without a moment of hesitation. Harry sighed and removed his glasses, running a hand over his face and shaking his head in utter disbelief. “Oh, don’t be so surprised! How is it that you’ve never noticed before? You’ve got that map of yours. Every morning I half expect to walk downstairs and hear your _screaming_ before I even set foot on the ground.” Hermione took a deep breath to steady herself and shook her head. “But you’ve never said anything.”

“When I look at the map, I don’t feel the need to find you or watch you. I never needed to,” Harry said, glancing down at the blank parchment in his hands. “I trust you.”

“Then trust me, Harry, please. He’s not the cold and cruel person that he’s shows to everyone. He’s vulnerable. He needs someone to care for him, he needs someone to look at him and believe that there is good inside. I am that person.” Hermione was almost in tears explaining her feelings for Draco. Ginny sensed her friend’s emotions running wild and wrapped her arms around her in a hug. “You just _have_ to believe me, you have to believe me when I tell you that I love him.”

Harry didn’t know what to do, his best friend admitting her love for his enemy, the one he _knows_ is trying to kill Dumbledore because he’s a pawn in Voldemort’s game, but she’s _in love_ with him, the person, the stupid stupid _stupid_ person, behind the façade of the Slytherin King.

She was pleading with him through her eyes, her tired eyes because damn, it was already one thirty and she had patrol tomorrow after a full day of classes and she needed some sleep.

“Alright.” Harry let out a sigh. “Alright, I believe you. But I’m not happy about it, and I’m not covering for you, ever, but I’m also not going to tell the whole school that you’re shagging Draco Mal — oh god, Hermione tell me you haven’t —”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” she replied, hugging him to silence him.

“On another note,” Ginny maneuvered to stand next to them, “there’s this nasty rumour going around that you and Draco got into a wand fight in the bathroom, and I’m not sure which version I want it to be more, the one where you almost kill him or the one where the two of you measure your —”

“Ginny!” That time, both Harry and Hermione hushed the redhead. Harry flushed and Hermione crossed her arms in annoyance. “Well, are you going to tell her or should I?”

“I ... used one of the spells out of the Potions book on Draco and he almost ... bled to death,” Harry admitted slowly. “And now I have detention with Snape for every Saturday . . until the end of the school year.”

Ginny’s mouth dropped open at this confession. “Oh Harry ... Harry,” she groaned his name in anger, punching her fists against his arms and chest with each syllable. “Are you really that _stupid_? You could have been expelled! What about Quidditch this Saturday, it’s the cup!” Changing gears, she turned to Hermione. “Is he going to be okay?”

“He’s recovering now,” she supplied.

Ginny turned back to Harry. “You are _such_ an _idiot_.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said sheepishly.

“Say that to Hermione,” she scoffed.

“No ... ” Hermione shook her head and pointed a finger at him. “Say it to Draco.”

Harry spluttered out several no’s at the idea of apologizing to _Malfoy_ of all people, but feeling the burn from the angry glares of two of women he most loved, he caved. “Alright, alright. I’ll go apologize to him tomorrow.”

Ginny seemed satisfied at that and returned to her room. Hermione picked up her stuff and smiled a bit at him.

“Mione, I’ve been a downright arse to you and I’m sorry. I felt like I was losing my best friend.”

“It’s okay Harry. It’s out in the open now. I can’t ask you to keep my secret.”

“You don’t have to ask, I’m ... I’m on board with it.” Hermione started to disagree but Harry silenced her with a hug. “I’m not going to make you tell Ron anything you don’t want to say.”

So the next morning, after checking to ensure that Draco was still there and the elder Malfoys were gone, Harry stalked into the Infirmary to have words with the pale blond Slytherin.

“Oi, Malfoy.” Harry’s loud voice startled Draco, who was getting his uniform on for the day.

“Potter.” Draco quickly finished tying his shoes. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Sod off Malfoy, I’m doing this for Hermione, not for your entertainment.” Harry snapped and threw himself into the chair next to his bed. “I’m here to apologize for hurting you —”

“Nearly killing me is a bit more accurate, don’t you think?”

“— and now that I know about the two of you, I have to inform you that I’m not very happy about it —”

“I wouldn’t expect you to be.”

“Stop talking!” Harry demanded loudly, and when Draco didn’t say anything else, he continued. “But Hermione told me how happy you make her, and I ... can’t get in the way of her happiness.”

Draco waited for him to say something else before saying, “Thank you.”

“She sees the good in you, wherever that may be, so I can’t stop her from loving you.”

“She may see the good in me, but I’ll never, never be like you. I can’t give her what she wants in life.”

“I think that it only matters to her if you’re together or not. She wants to make a difference in the world, and if she starts by _personally_ breaking down the barrier between Purebloods and Muggleborns, then so be it.”

“I’ll fail her.”

“You’ll only fail her if you stand back and do nothing.” Harry swallowed, unable to believe that he was giving romantic advice to his enemy when he barely had a romantic life himself. “She believes in you. Prove it to her.” He stood and nodded awkwardly before walking away.

“Hey Potter.” Harry turned around. Draco nodded his head slowly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Believe me, I won’t.”


	15. Fifteen - All I Ask

_look don’t get me wrong,  
_ _I know  
_ _there is no tomorrow_

_all I ask is if   
_ _this is my last night with you,  
_ _hold me like I’m more than just a friend  
_ _give me a memory I can use  
_ _take me by the hand while we do  
_ _what lovers do  
_ _it matters how this ends  
_ _cause what if I never love again?_

“What do you mean you still have detention?” Ginny’s screams of anguish were heard throughout the Gryffindor Tower early Saturday morning. “It’s the cup, we need our captain!”

“Well Snape is holding me to my detention.”

Ginny glowered at him. Harry avoided her eyes by finding the carpet covering the floor very interesting. “Next time you try to kill someone, don’t get caught by the person who enjoys making your life a living hell, because now, my life is a living hell!”

“It’s not that bad, we’re better than Ravenclaw anyway! Make Dean the seeker and end the game as fast as you can! You don’t need me to win.”  
  
“Well, I would have liked to win with you,” Ginny mumbled.

“And I would have liked to win with you too,” Harry smiled a little at her, “I’m sorry.” He gently tapped her calf with his foot.

She smiled a bit and tapped his shin with her foot. “It’s okay.”

The game was phenomenal, Hermione had to admit. Sometimes Quidditch was so _fucking_ _boring_ (to her), especially if it was a shutout, but this was amazing. Everyone was screaming, stomping in the stands, waving handmade signs, and singing ‘Weasley is Our King!’ Hermione was sure Harry could hear it from Snape’s office. The team kicked Ravenclaw’s ass (450 to 140!) and there was a celebratory party in the Common Room that included some of Fred and George’s fireworks and lots of alcohol.

The portrait hole swung open an hour after the party begun and revealed Harry. He grinned at the sight of the party and Ginny holding the cup. She saw him open the door and ran to him after practically throwing the cup into Ron’s hands. She launched herself into his arms and he hugged her tightly.She pulled away to speak, but he kissed her instead. Hermione was smiling like an idiot and held Ron back before he forcibly removed them from each other. There was cheering from the Gryffindor girls in Ginny’s year and Luna couldn’t help but join in.

“Do they hafta do that?” Ron whined. Hermione smacked his arm and resumed talking with Dean and Seamus.

Harry and Ginny whispered a short conversation, and then left through the portrait hole to go off on their own adventure.

*.*.*.*

“C’mon, it’s your birthday!”

“It really doesn’t matter to me, Hermione.”

“You’re turning 17! It’s a big deal!”

“It’s just another day, ‘Mione.”

“Draco …”

“Hermione, love,” he smiled at her and kissed her cheek. “I love you, but my birthday is really no cause for celebration for anyone other than you.”

“Then let me celebrate you!” Hermione begged him. “We could get a bottle of firewhiskey, sit in front of the fireplace, kiss a little bit, hmm?”

He chuckled as she settled herself on his lap. “That does pique my interest.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “I thought it might.”

*.*.*.*

“Alright class, we were first introduced to Amortentia on the first day, correct?” A bunch of heads bobbed up and down, affirming Slughorn’s rhetorical question. “So for our final, I thought it would be fun for your final exam to brew your own Amortentia. I have written certain steps on the board but you must fill in the blanks. If you seek extra credit, I ask that you write down the distinct odors you smell when it is finished.” Slughorn was smiling to himself, his eyes darting around the room to make it look less conspicuous that he was waiting for Hermione and Draco’s reactions. Hermione couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him. “This should be fun. Get to work!”

Harry glanced over at Hermione, who was already shedding her robes and pulling out her book. Ron was busy talking with a pink-faced Neville. “Can I borrow your book?” He asked quietly.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Still haven’t retrieved yours from the room?”

“No, and I don’t think I ever will.”

“That’s a bit ridiculous, Harry.”

He quickly changed the subject. “Are you going to write down what you smell?”

Hermione quickly glanced at Draco’s table and shrugged. “Extra credit’s extra credit. Besides, all the professors know anyway.” She added as she went to retrieve her cauldron.

“What?” Harry asked a bit too loudly, drawing Neville and Ron’s attention.

“What, mate?” Ron asked.

“Nothing. Just amazed Hermione isn’t annoyed that this is our final considering it almost killed you.”

“Nah mate, this potion didn’t almost kill me, Malfoy did.”

Hermione’s cauldron fell from her grasp and landed loudly on the table, drawing everyone’s attention. “Sorry, everyone.” She pushed her hair behind her ears and leaned in to speak directly to Ron. “I’m sorry, you said who almost killed you?”

“Malfoy. He’s the one who poisoned the mead, Slughorn said it was supposed to be a Christmas gift for Dumbledore, but he couldn’t remember who had given it to him. Coincidence?”

Hermione pushed aside her current state of bewilderment to shake her head at Ron’s ability to always blame Draco for something. “Wow, amazing how you can come to that conclusion and yet you can’t remember what mandrakes are for!”

“Oi, I remembered!”

“Only when I told you _after_ the test! Does second year ring _any_ bells for you?”

“Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, is there a problem here?” Slughorn appeared in between Harry and Neville who had been very quiet during this exchange.

“No, professor. We were just getting started with the potion.” Hermione glared at Ron and got to work.

The testing period passed uneventfully and Hermione finished her Amortentia quickly, practically the first one to do so. She questioned whether it would be okay to write down what she smells, but seeing as basically all the professors knew about the two of them, it wasn’t that big of a deal. And she can’t imagine Slughorn actually knowing was Draco smells like, because that would be really odd. And it’s not like he can test it, because Slughorn could only smell what he was supposed to smell.

So, at the bottom of her steps, she wrote “Apples, Crisp Cotton, and Aftershave” and turned it in.

*.*.*.*

When he arrived at the Room of Requirement, Hermione was already there, sitting with a book and her feet propped up on the table. She smiled at him when he entered the Room and returned to her book.

“Aren’t you glad finals are over?” She asked.

He merely nodded in response. “It’s our, uh, our last night together,” he said softly while leaning against the bookshelf that held the classics.

“Only for a while,” Hermione shrugged. “We’ll see each other again in two months. Who knows, maybe we’ll be Heads together, and then it can all come out, no more lying, no more sneaking around.”

Draco shook his head and exhaled slowly. “No, I don’t think so.”

Hermione knew something was wrong, something was off. He wasn’t looking at her, he was fumbling with his tie, he was restless. She stood and walked to him.

“Draco ... ” She whispered, pulling on the waistband of his trousers so he would move closer to her. “You don’t need to worry about facing your parents or Him. You can come to our side, you can fight with us, you can fight for good.” She placed her palm on his cheek, guiding his eyes to hers. Hermione was staring up at Draco with those bright brown eyes that made him wonder, if he stayed in the Room of Requirement with her forever would anyone even notice?

He swallowed slowly. “He will kill them, Hermione,” he whispered.

She knew that, she knew everything. She knew he was given a task, a task that he had forty-eight hours and counting to complete. He had stalled this long, would he not complete the task? But would that mean he would have to watch his parents die in front of him? She could go to Dumbledore and Snape and tell them to protect them, but wouldn’t they have already thought of that? Were the Malfoy’s too proud to ask for help, to ask for protection? They didn’t have the faith in Dumbledore that Snape did.

Shaking her head free of the rampant questions, she hugged him close. She placed her hands on his face and brought his lips to hers. She tried to drown out his fears and shut down his thoughts with the force of her kisses.

If this was all she could offer him, if this was all she was going to have to remember this six month love affair, then by god she was going to make it worth it. 

The next morning, Hermione awoke and rolled over to cuddle into Draco’s side — only to find that he wasn’t there.

There was only a note on the pillow.

_You’re right, I have to deal with this, and I will. Tonight. Just promise me one thing, stay in your dorm. Do not come out._

_Please don’t forget about the good side of me, please don’t lose hope. This will all be over one day. Don’t forget about us._

_But I’m not a hero like Potter._

_I’m sorry._


	16. Sixteen - Battle Cry

_just one more time before I go,   
_ _I’ll let you know  
_ _that all this time I’ve been afraid,   
_ _wouldn’t let it show  
_ _nobody can save me now, no_  
_nobody can save me now  
_ _it’s do or die_

When Hermione returned to the common room that morning, she kept the note from Draco folded meticulously in her pocket as she quietly shut the door behind her. She was not, however, prepared to see Harry waiting for her by the fireplace.

“Harry!” She gasped, quickly taking a step back as a reflex.

He stood from his spot on the couch and walked over to her. “I don’t need to know where you’ve been or what you’ve been doing, but I need you to take this —” he placed a rolled handkerchief in one hand — “and this.” He placed the Marauder’s Map in the other. “You’re going to need it for tonight.”

“Harry, what on earth ... ” Hermione began as she looked down and unrolled the cloth. “Your Felix Felicis? And your map? What is going on?”

“I’m going to be with Dumbledore this afternoon and probably most of the evening too. He’s found where the next Horcrux is hidden and he wants me to go with him.”

“But Harry, you should be the one to take this then.”

“No, I don’t need luck, I’ll be with Dumbledore. I have a feeling something is going to go down tonight.”

“Is this just one of your crazy superstitions or is this evidence-based?”

“No Hermione, I _know_ that something bad will happen tonight. So share the potion with Ron, Neville, Luna, and Ginny and keep the castle safe. Tell McGonagall at the first sign of trouble.”

Hermione’s stomach clenched with worry. “But Harry —”

“Keep everyone safe. Call the Order if you need to.”

She sighed and nodded her agreement. He moved toward the portrait hole to leave but she called after him. “Harry!” He turned around and she opened her mouth with the intent to tell him, confirm his deep-set belief, but she couldn’t say it.

“I know.” He said softly and nodded his head reassuringly.

She looked down at the vial and whispered, “Do you really think it’s him?”

He hesitated, but he still answered. “The Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement is fixed. Its mate is in Borgin and Burke’s, and they just broke out a bunch of Death Eaters from Azkaban.” Hermione swallowed uncomfortably but nodded. “It was only a matter of time, Hermione.”

She sniffed and looked up at him, continuously nodding. “Okay.”

After that, footsteps on the stairs signaled that the first of the Gryffindors were awake and heading to breakfast. She quickly wiped her face and placed the vial and the map in the same pocket as the folded note.

Hermione tried to keep herself busy with research in the library about Horcruxes. She was unable to find any substantial information of them using the basic books and had to resort to the restricted section. She utilized a shrinking spell to fit all of them in her bag and packed them in her trunk for the summer.

While finishing her packing, Hermione stumbled across the neatly wrapped parcel she had intended to give to Draco before they left Hogwarts. She had forgotten about it last night due to the overwhelming desire to just be with him and wondered if she should still give it to him. His note begged her not to leave her dorm, but was that just his way of making sure their goodbye would be remembered only as a wonderful night of passion instead of a night full of tears? She didn’t think he was going to let the Death Eaters in tonight, she knew that she could easily find him and give it to him and maybe he’ll make up his mind, for good.

It was almost nine and the sun was just now setting behind the trees of the Forbidden Forest. Ron said something about flying with the boys and hadn't been seen since dinner. Ginny was moping, but diligently completing the crossword puzzle in the newest edition of the _Quibbler_. Hermione was reading, trying to take her mind off of the impending doom she felt in her stomach, but was nowhere near succeeding.

"When do you think Harry's going to come back?" Ginny asked, her voice tired.

“I’m not sure, Gin,” Hermione replied, noting her best friend’s sad demeanor. Both Harry and Ginny told her that he had broken it off, after only a few short but glamorous weeks, and only because he thought it wouldn’t be safe for her to be with him. She understood, she fought with him at first, but she understood and was still upset.

“Have you heard from him since the note?” Ginny asked quietly. Hermione shook her head somberly. “Well then, I think you should go find him.”

“He asked me not to leave the dorm.”

“Do you think that means he’s going to go through with … whatever it is?”

Hermione sighed, “I don’t know … I’m not sure of anything anymore.”

Ginny was silent for a bit before asking, “When do you think will we be able to be with the people we want?”

“After the war.”

Ginny threw the magazine on the floor and shoved her face in a pillow. Although she was muffled, Hermione could hear her say, “That’s not the answer I was looking for.”

The boys came bursting in the common room at that point, face and clothing covered in mud. They were laughing and pushing each other around and drew Hermione and Ginny into the animated conversation.

Dark clouds rolled in quickly, causing Hogwarts and its surrounding areas to be cloaked in darkness. Thunder boomed directly above the castle. Everyone stopped their chatter to move to the windows and watch as lightning struck across the sky.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a storm move in this fast,” Seamus commented.

“I don’t think it’s a storm,” Hermione whispered. She glanced at Ron, who’s face was as sullen as hers. The Felix Felicis was still in her pockets, and her fingers were itching to grab it and drink it.

McGonagall entered the common room with her lips pressed together in a tight line. Everyone immediately turned to her. “I need everyone to stay in for the rest of the evening. I’m afraid we are experiencing some … inclement weather.”

“Sure, that’s what it is,” Ron muttered as he, Hermione, Neville, and Ginny moved towards McGonagall.

“Professor, what’s going on?” Hermione asked.

McGonagall, who knew that Harry was with Dumbledore and Hermione and Ron were _always_ going to be involved in _anything_ that _ever_ happens at this school, looked over their heads to see everyone else slowly making their way up the stairs, hoping to hear some information. She waited until every last student retreated upstairs. “We need all our students to remain in the safety of their dormitories. Unfortunately, there are quite a few Death Eaters in the castle, and we aren’t sure how.”

“Malfoy.” Ron muttered under his breath.

“Harry said this would happen,” Hermione said before she could stop herself, “he left with Dumbledore and the school isn’t safe without the headmaster.”

“We’ll just have to see about that.” McGonagall said with some sass. “I’ve got to call the Ministry.” She turned to leave, presumably alone, but they all followed her.

“The Ministry?” Ron shook his head. “No, no get the Order, they will help us more.”

“Mr. Weasley, the Order is only so many people. They do not have the manpower to help us.”

“But they are the people who have fought before.”

“This isn’t about fighting, it’s about making them go away!” McGonagall exclaimed.

“And what makes you think they’re going to go away without a fight, Minerva?” Remus Lupin and the rest of the Order were waiting for them at the bottom of the magical staircases in front of the Great Hall. McGonagall looked slightly perturbed at their unannounced entrance, but she also looked relieved that she had backup that knew Hogwarts and knew the gravity of the situation.

Arthur explained how he, Molly, Bill, and Fleur had been visiting Fred and George in Diagon Alley, preparing for everyone’s return, when they saw a large group of Death Eaters head towards Knockturn Alley. Then, he remembered the conversation he had had with Harry regarding the Vanishing Cabinet in Borgin and Burkes and grew very concerned.

“I knew the Malfoy boy had been very intrigued by it. I wondered if it had a pair, and what if the other cabinet happened to be somewhere in Hogwarts.”

“It’s a foolproof plan, really.” Mad-Eye Moody nodded his head. “Only if the cabinets both worked.”

“Which clearly they do, because the same Death Eaters we saw walking into Borgin and Burkes are upstairs right now.”

“Oh God,” Hermione let out in a breath only loud enough for Ginny to hear.

“Alright everyone, we need to stick together and focus on the spells we know how to cast. We are not aiming to kill, only stun and disarm.” Remus explained.

Hermione quietly pulled Ron, Neville, Luna, and Ginny into a corner before they all separated with the others. “Everyone drink some of this now.” She opened her fist to reveal the Felix Felicis vial.

“Mione, what about everyone else?” Neville asked.

“Before he left, Harry said the five of us should share the potion if something bad happens. Well, something bad is happenin’ and we’re gonna drink it.” Hermione looked at all of them and saw the fear and determination swirling in their eyes.

Ginny didn’t question it, and grabbed the vial from her hand and approximately a fifth. She looked at Hermione, her eyes saying _please don’t let anyone die_ but didn’t actually speak, and hugged her before darting to be with Fred and George.

Neville looked unsure about the whole concept, but drank his fifth anyway quickly before handing it to Luna. They went off with Seamus and Dean (who had followed them out of the dorm because, well, _Hermione_ ) to fight with Remus and Tonks.

“You should have the rest, I’ll be fine.” Ron said, pushing the vial towards her.

Hermione shook her head. “No, we both need it. I can’t have you die on us.” Ron grinned a bit at that statement and drank his fifth. “Go with Bill and Fleur and Moody. I’ll be along shortly.” She watched him jog away to catch up with his brother and placed the cork back on the vial. She was going to save the remaining amount for Draco so he would be safe in their retreat.

“Hermione, dear, are you ready?”

They heard a loud boom and saw that the sky had turned green for a brief moment. Hermione’s stomach sank and she hurried into the courtyard with Molly and McGonagall to see the Dark Mark forming above the castle.

Battle had begun.

“I hafta … I hafta go do somethin’. I promise, I’ll be right back. I just … I have to go.”

Hermione knew she had to find Draco before people started getting hurt. The Room of Requirement was, according to McGonagall, the way the Death Eaters entered. She quickly glanced at the map and saw his black dot located at the top of the Astronomy Tower. She hurried back to the Gryffindor Tower and into her room to grab the parcel she intended to give to Draco. Many people stopped her and asked her what was going on. She told them blatantly: Death Eaters are in the castle and if you want to help, go help, but know that your life could be on the line. They are ruthless and will kill anyone who gets in the way.

Many people did not follow her out of the dormitory and into the battle.

As she climbed the stairs to the Astronomy Tower, the sounds of the shouts from students and staff below dwindled in volume with every step. She clutched the parcel in her hands closer to her chest and let out a breath of relief when she saw the blond standing with his hands clasped on the railing.

“Oh thank God you’re here, I’ve been so worried!” Draco was startled at the sound of her voice and silently cursed her abrasive ability to _not follow given directions_ , not that he could ever actually _direct_ her. “The note you left really bent me out of shape. Look, Draco, I don’t care if you don’t tell your parents, because it’s okay if you don’t, it won’t stop me from loving you. We knew this, _this_ , was inevitable, but now there’s Death Eaters all over the castle, let’s go, oh and take this —” Hermione fished for the vial of Felix Felicis to hand it to him, “we’ll be safe —”

Draco cut her off, his voice stern. “We’ll never be safe, I’ll never be safe unless I’m on the side that has _branded_ me —”

“So what, you finally did what you were sent here to do?”

“Okay, yes, maybe He —”

“Asked you open the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement —”

“ _How_ did you —”

“— and have thirty Death Eaters walk out and distract the school’s professors —”

“All He said was to —”

“— so that you can _kill_ Albus Dumbledore?” Hermione finished with her voice loud but shaky.

“Hermione, _listen_ —”

She slapped him real hard across his face. “Did you think I was stupid?” She asked slowly and sniffed. “Did you think I didn’t know what you were doing?”

“Please, know that I never wanted to hurt you —”

“Then I should have never kept your Dark Mark a secret and I should have told Dumbledore about it right away.”

“And had me expelled? Then He would have killed me.”

“Would’ve _saved_ _me_ the trouble.”

“Listen, I can’t be a traitor, He’s going to kill my parents if I don’t do this!”

Tears were already clouding her vision. “No, no, _He_ wouldn’t have because _we_ could’ve protected all of you!”

“You can’t protect someone from Him, He’s ruthless!”

“They’ve been protecting Harry for years!”

“Yeah, with uncalled for death and near-death experiences along the way!”

She stared at him, shook her head, and said, “You’re a liar, and a bastard, and you _are_ a Death Eater! You’re despicable and I … _never_ want to see you again.” Her voice broke as she threw the parcel against the wall and left the Astronomy Tower.

"Hermione!" Draco called after her, but she was already gone. He sighed and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. She had run from him, downed the remainder of the luck potion, and took her wand out for anyone who got in her way.

She knew, she _had known_ , she couldn’t deny it anymore — he _was_ doing Voldemort’s dirty work — and it didn’t take Harry’s comment from this morning to jolt her into believing the worst about her boyfriend. She had known, but the school year was done in _two_ _days_ , there was _no_ _more_ _time_ for him to do this task.

(Maybe she did underestimate him.)

“Hermione?” She heard her name and whirled around to see Tonks coming towards her now, curious as to what was wrong.

“It was Draco.” Hermione was seething with anger. “It was him all along.”

*.*.*.*

While Tonks consoled Hermione at the bottom of the stairs, Draco was starting to unwrap the parcel when he heard slow footsteps on the stairs. Thinking it was a fellow Death Eater, he stashed the partially open parcel behind a telescope.

“Good evening Draco,” Dumbledore said quietly when he reached the landing, “Alone again, are we?” Draco’s face hardened at memory of the sting from Hermione’s slap, the tears in her eyes, the hurt in her face. “It’s a … pity … it had to end that way.”

“Expelliarmus!” Draco shouted as Dumbledore started to walk towards him. His wand flew to the other side of the Tower and landed with a clatter. Dumbledore leaned against the wall of the Tower and smiled, knowing that he hit a nerve. “That’s nothing you need to worry your precious little head about.” Draco spat coldly, even though Dumbledore was spot-on accurate.

“Hermione was right, of course, we would have protected you from Him.” Draco didn’t say anything as the old wizard tried to guilt him into asking for help. “I had hoped she would influence you to turn to the light.” Dumbledore paused, taking a step closer to him. “You are not an assassin, Draco.”

“You don’t know what I am. You would be amazed at the things I’ve done!”

“Like cursing Katie Bell into delivering a cursed necklace to me, or switching a bottle of mead for one that was poisoned? Forgive me, Draco, but these seem like pathetic assassination attempts. So pathetic, to be frank, that I wonder whether your heart has really been in it. Draco, you knew this request of Tom’s was wrong before your time with Miss Granger began.” Draco’s mouth fell open as he tried to form a complete sentence that would prove the headmaster wrong.

“Yes Draco, I knew you were plotting to kill me, but I figured expelling you would only do more harm as Tom would, in fact, kill you instead.”

“Why didn’t you? Tell Him?”

“Because you needed to see the good inside of you, and Miss Granger helped with that.” Dumbledore paused, “And … you are not a killer.”

Somewhere in the depths of the castle below, muffled yells and shouts could be heard. “Somebody is putting up a good fight down there, aren’t they?” His eyes twinkled. There were scuffling sounds on the stairs again, getting louder and louder, and Dumbledore’s eyes darted from left to right. “I take it we’re not alone, are we?” When Draco didn’t answer, he pressed on, “Great job at repairing the Vanishing Cabinet.”

Four people in black robes clambered their way on the landing at the top of the Tower.

“Dumbledore … cornered!” Amycus cheered with his sister Alecto. “Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done Draco, well done.”

“Good evening, Amycus,” Dumbledore spoke calmly, like he was welcoming the man to a tea party. “And you brought Alecto as well, wonderful.”

“Think your little jokes will help you on your deathbed then?”

“Jokes?” Dumbledore almost sounded offended. “No, no, these are my manners. Sorry, they must be a foreign concept to you.”

“Do it,” Greyback walked out of the shadows. Draco faltered only momentarily. He did not realize that Fenrir Greyback would be joining the Hogwarts invasion.

“I am a little shocked that Draco invited you, of all people, into the school where his friends live …”

“I didn’t — I didn’t know he was going to come —” Draco stumbled over his words, fear seeping into his bones. There was blood trickling down Fenrir’s chin and he was licking his lips. _Who did he hurt? Did he kill anyone?_

“Draco, do it, or stand aside so one of—” Alecto’s screeching was stopped with a bang as Severus Snape appeared in the archway. He clutched his wand and his black eyes surveyed the room, from Draco’s disheveled appearance, the four Death Eaters (including the werewolf), and Dumbledore’s poor stance against the wall.

“We’ve got a big problem, Snape,” Amycus groaned. “The boy doesn’t seem to be able —”

“Severus …” It was Dumbledore, whispering, coughing, pleading. Snape walked to the man, pushing Draco aside and forcing the other Death Eaters to step back. “Severus … please.”

" _Avada Kedavra_.”

Snape kept his promise. He completed Voldemort's request when Draco couldn't. Draco didn't know what to do.

"Come, Draco. You shouldn't be here." Snape said, brushing past the blond. Once he was gone, Draco let out a shuddery breath and reached for the broken parcel.

Carefully unwrapping it, he saw a picture frame with the glass broken into shards resting on the moving picture. He remembered it, the Creevy kid with the camera had found him and Hermione in the library and taken a photo. Hermione demanded he hand it over, but Draco didn't realize she had kept it. He lifted the picture out of the frame and turned it over to see Hermione's neat handwriting.

_So you don't forget your lionheart._

_— H._

*.*.*.*

Ginny brought Harry to the Hospital Wing even though he refused to leave Dumbledore’s side. Ginny explained that no one had died, but Bill … Bill had been attacked by Greyback.

Hermione hugged Harry at first sight, grateful that he was alive and in one piece and _not_ _bleeding_ for once. She heard him ask about Bill’s condition and Ron suggested that perhaps Dumbledore would know of something to help heal the scars.

“No, Ron, he can’t … Dumbledore’s dead.”

After that, Hermione couldn’t seem to comprehend anything that was said around her. Remus collapsed in a chair, Tonks sunk to the floor, Arthur grasped Molly’s shoulder. Everyone started blaming themselves, from McGonagall to Ron and Ginny. Little things that went wrong even though they could never have had control over them … it was those split-second decisions that made each person blame themselves.

But no one blamed themselves more than Hermione.

All the things she could have done from the minute Draco revealed his Dark Mark to her, _all the things she should have done_ … and now Dumbledore was _dead_.

She should have said something immediately. She should have gone to Dumbledore and been honest. She should have told Harry. She should have distanced herself instead of letting her guard down. She should have never let him in. She should have ignored him when he resumed his prick-like behavior in January. She should have …

She should never have fallen in love with him.

Molly was whispering to herself as she stroked Bill’s hair. “… but he was a very handsome little boy … always so handsome … and he was g — going to be married!”

“And what do you mean by zat?” Fleur asked suddenly and loudly. “What do you mean by ‘’e was _going_ to be married?’”

Molly looked startled. “Well, only that —”

“You theenk Bill will not wish to marry me anymore?” Fleur’s questions were demanding and unrelenting. “You theenk, that because of these bites, he will no longer love me?”

“No, of course that’s not what I —”

“Because ‘e will!” The Veela drew herself up to her full height and threw her long hair over her shoulder. “It will take more zen a werewolf to stop Bill from loving me!”

“Well, yes, this is true,” Molly agreed, “But I thought, perhaps, with how — given how now he —”

“You thought I would not weesh to marry him? Or per’aps, you hoped?” Molly looked at Fleur, shock taking over her facial features. “What do I care how he looks? I am good-looking enough for the both of us, I theenk! All these scars show is zat my husband is brave!” Fleur states, gripping Bill’s hand in her own.

Tonks immediately turned to Remus and pointed at Bill and Fleur. “You see! She still wants to marry him, even though he’s been bitten! She doesn’t care!”

“It’s different, Bill will not be a full werewolf. The cases are completely —”

“But I don’t care either, I don’t care,” Tonks cried, “I’ve told you a million times …”

“And I’ve told _you_ a million times that I am too old, too poor … too dangerous …”

“I’ve said all along that you’re taking a ridiculous line on this, Remus,” Molly quipped.

“I am not being ridiculous!” Remus protested. “Tonks deserves to be with someone young and whole!”

“But she wants you.” Arthur said earnestly. “And after all, Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so.”

“This — this is … not the time nor the place to discuss it! Dumbledore is, is dead …”

“Dumbledore,” McGonagall startled everyone with her resonant voice and removed her glasses to look at the two of them, “would have been happier than anyone to think that there was a little more love in the world.”

Hermione swallowed roughly at McGonagall’s statement and felt a hand wrap around her arm. Ginny looked at her best friend with a careful expression — _are you okay?_

Hermione felt herself shake her head ever so slightly to say _no I’m not okay, I’ll never be okay ever again._

She should never have fallen in love with him.

Otherwise … Dumbledore would still be alive.

*.*.*.*

Dumbledore’s funeral was the next morning, and there was not a dry eye in the Great Hall as McGonagall bid her best friend goodbye and led the students in a solemn version of the school song. Many other witches and wizards were in attendance as well, like Madame Maxine from Beauxbatons and several Ministry officials, including Percy Weasley.

After the ceremony and as Ron talked with his parents, Hermione stood by the edge of the Black Lake, clutching her sweater closer to her body. Harry approached her carefully.

“Hermione?”

She sniffed and used her sleeve to wipe away the tears from under her eyes. “I can’t believe he’s gone.” Harry just put his arm around her shoulders and let her lean against him. “And I really didn’t think he would go through with it.”

“He didn’t.” She tensed under his arm, her breath catching in her throat. “He didn’t kill Dumbledore, he couldn’t. Snape did it.”

“How do you know …”

“I was there. Dumbledore and I had returned and we flew from Hogsmeade to the Astronomy Tower. We were standing on the floor below and as Dumbledore was heading up to confront him … you arrived instead.” A new batch of tears fell while she listened to Harry speak, and she exhaled slowly, shaking her head. “He stunned me with a full-body bind so I couldn’t move or talk. And then I saw Dumbledore try to reason with him, and then others showed up, like Snape.”

“You were right Harry, I guess they’re both the enemy.”

“Great, Harry: one, Hermione Granger: a million,” he smiled down at her, trying to get some sort of reaction. “Listen, this is the only thing I’ve ever wanted to wrong about. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

She pulled away from his hold and shook her head. “I … I thought I had stalled him. I thought I made it clear that he could have been protected by the Order — his mother —could have been protected by the Order.”

“I think even Dumbledore thought you had changed him. He kept saying these cryptic things in all our meetings about how it was almost his time. He knew he was ill, but he … he begged Snape not to kill him.” Harry sighed and pushed up his glasses.

Hermione nodded slowly. “So … what’s next?”

“I need to talk to you and Ron, privately. It’s about next year.”

She eyebrows rose of their own accord. “Next year?”

“I’m going to finish what Dumbledore started.”

“Ah, destroy all the Horcruxes.” He nodded affirmatively. “I’ll go with you then — when are we leaving?”

“Hermione, you are destined to be Head Girl! You can’t throw all of this away to go on the run with me.”

“Hogwarts will be here when Voldemort is gone. I’ll do my last year then.”

“You can’t hide from Draco.”

“I’m not going to hide,” she scoffed, “I’m going to be with you, doing what is important.”

*.*.*.*

~~_Dear Hermione,_ ~~

~~_I heard about the oldest Weasley, and I’m sorry. I didn’t know Greyback would be there._ ~~

~~_Dear Hermione,_ ~~

~~_I could never forget you._ ~~

~~_Hermione,_ ~~

~~_I’m sorry_ ~~


	17. Seventeen - The World At Large

_I like songs about drifters, books about the same  
_ _they both seem to make me feel a little less insane  
_ _walked on off to another spot  
_ _I still haven’t gotten anywhere that I want_

_did I want your love?  
_ _did I need to know?  
_ _why do it always feel like I’m caught in an undertow?_

_Draco,_

_I don’t know what to say to you, and I don’t know if anything you say will ever change anything._

_Draco,_

_I wish you could know how angry upset frustrated hurt in love I still am._

Upon her arrival at the Burrow, Hermione didn’t try to hide her sadness. Molly would take it to mean she was still upset about Dumbledore’s death, and nothing more. She really just wanted to talk with Tonks and Ginny. But alas, with all the wedding planning for Bill and Fleur, and with the impending doom she felt every day, Hermione hadn’t been able to talk with Tonks and Ginny together, just Tonks alone.

“How are you, Hermione?” Tonks asked over her cup of tea. The girl in question simply shrugged, playing with the tea bag that was steeping in her cup. “I know this was difficult for you … Dumbledore’s death and … all of that.” Tonks watched for any subtle change in body language, but the girl was stoic. She looked up at Tonks and saw her caring face, her maternal eyes, and her small smile … and the explanation just fell out of her mouth.

When she was done, and Tonks hadn’t said anything, she added slowly, “But you already knew all of this, didn’t you?”

Tonks sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well, not _all_ of it, but … I put a few pieces together here and there.” Hermione nodded slowly. “I’m surprised at you, ‘Mione. I didn’t think you would, uh —”

“Lie to everyone she knows?” She snorted. “Join the club.”

“No, I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say that I didn’t think you would allow a boy inside that pretty little head of yours.” Tonks grinned.

“I definitely didn’t allow it,” Hermione chuckled. “It just happened, but I wanted it to happen. I got in too deep, before I knew it I was in too deep.” She sighed. “It just happened.”

“Sometimes things just happen.” Tonks said whimsically, looking out the window at the men on the lawn.

The Weasley boys were out tossing around a Quaffle instead of de-gnoming the yard. Arthur and Remus were only half-heartedly playing along but the smiles on their faces were nice to see in times like these. Hermione follows Tonks’ gaze to Remus and she smiled too.

“How are _things_ with Remus?” Hermione asked teasingly.

“ _Things_ are good. We … well we’re going to elope, because we don’t take the attention away from Bill and Fleur.”

“Oh, Tonks that’s wonderful!” Hermione gushed and put her tea down to hug the older woman.

It really was.

*.*.*.*

_Draco,_

_I’m not mad anymore, I don’t think. Now I just miss you._

During breakfast a few days before the Order was set to retrieve Harry from Privet Drive, the Hogwarts letters came. It was unusually early, but since McGonagall was now the Headmistress, things may actually be done in a more orderly fashion. Ginny excitedly ripped hers open to discover she passed all of the OWLs she took with various levels of good marks. Molly and Arthur were delighted to see she was also a Prefect. Bill gave her a kiss on the head and Fleur pinched her cheeks. Tonks and Remus applauded her accomplishments.

Then Molly looked expectantly at Ron and Hermione, as they had not opened their letters yet. They glanced at each other before slowly opening their letters. The first thing out of Hermione’s envelope, which had felt abnormally heavy (even for the amount of classes she was — would be — taking), was a shiny red badge with the clean engraving of ‘Head Girl.’ Tears sprang to her eyes as she held the pin in her hand and read the letter quickly to see the crisp cursive writing of McGonagall’s in the blank space next to “Head Boy:” which read Draco Malfoy.

“Oh Hermione, you’re Head Girl!” Molly exclaimed.

Hermione abruptly pushed her chair back and hurried out of the kitchen. She heard Molly ask Ron what was wrong with her. He glanced at her letter and saw who she was partnered with and mumbled half-heartedly, “Maybe she’s upset because Malfoy is Head Boy.”

Ginny and Tonks shared a brief look across the table and Ginny threw her napkin on the table. “I’ll go talk to her.”

Tonks nodded in agreement and followed her. “Me too.”

Hermione was too busy throwing rocks in the pond to hear them walk up behind her. She was sobbing, her attempts at stopping the tears were futile, and each rock she threw landed with an unsatisfying plunk in the water.

“I know it hurts, Hermione.” Ginny said quietly as she approached the crying brunette.

“It’s not fair,” Hermione moaned, sniffling loudly, the last rock dropping from her grasp. “It’s not fair,” she whimpered.

Tonks pulled her into her arms and the three sank down to the dirt. Hermione half-laid in Tonks lap and cried. Ginny rubbed her shin and Tonks stroked her hair.

“The worst part is that I’m not even mad anymore! I just — I just miss him.”

“It’s hard to quit a person cold turkey,” Tonks murmured, resting her head on Hermione’s. “You’re going to see him in September, you guys can talk about everything then and maybe try again.”

“But I won’t see him in September,” Hermione started crying again, “I’m not going back to Hogwarts.”

“Hermione, just because your heart was broken doesn’t mean you aren’t —”

“I’m not going because Harry, Ron and I are going to finish what Dumbledore started.”

Ginny and Tonks looked bewildered. “The three of you aren’t ... going back?” Ginny asked. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head slowly.

*.*.*.*

_Hermione,_

_Life without you is worse than I thought it would be. If I ever manage to get you back, I’m never letting you go._

_Hermione,_

_I don’t think I can do this without you._

“Draco, look, your Hogwarts letter has arrived!” Narcissa couldn’t contain her excitement as she ripped it open in the kitchen before he had even sat down at the table.

“It’s not even August yet,” he commented as his mother dumped out the contents with a heavy _clunk_ stopping her movement.

Draco swallowed roughly and shifted the papers until his fingers hit the cool metal of the pin. He could feel the engraved ‘H’ before he even flipped it over to reveal the pristinely engraved “Head Boy”. His mother waited with bated breath to see how he would react to such a fine achievement, and she was disappointed when she received no reaction at all.

“Isn’t this exciting?” She asked, trying to keep her tone energetic and bubbly.

 _It really wasn’t_ , Draco thought.

*.*.*.*

_Draco,_

_What are the Head Dormitories like? Who’s teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts? Is Hogwarts the hell the paper makes it seem?_

_Draco,_

_What’s Hogwarts like without me?_

“You shouldn’t be doing the dishes on your birthday.” Harry said softly, pulling the plate from her hand.

Hermione shrugged and grabbed the next dish, a silver cup, from the side of the sink. “It’s fine Harry.”

They had been staying in the tent for three weeks since the (disastrous) attempt at breaking into the Ministry of Magic and Ron’s splinching. They couldn’t go back to Grimmauld Place, so they had to set up camp, literally, where they landed in the forest.

“Let me do it, you go read a book,” he suggested.

“Harry,” her voice had a hint of annoyance. “I need you to just let me do this, okay? Just let me wash the damn dishes.”

He put his hands up in mock-surrender, “Can I at least help you?”

“I suppose,” she muttered. “I just … need a distraction.”

Harry glanced outside the tent flap to see Ron sitting dutifully, watching for any possible intruders. “Are you, uhm … are you thinking about him?”

Her eyes flicked up to his face and back down to the silver cup that was most definitely clean by now. “And if I was?”

Harry shrugged, dunking his plate into the soapy water. “I’d say it’s natural? I think about Ginny.”

“You stare at the map in hopes of seeing her little dot appear,” she retorted.

“Hey, if you wanted to stare at the map too, you could.”

She stopped drying the cup, and then she put it down slowly. “Really?”

Harry’s eyebrows rose along with his shoulders. “If you’d like to … while Ron is outside.”

So Hermione let Harry wash the dishes as she crawled into her bed and made the map come to life. It didn’t take long to locate Ginny, Neville, Seamus, and Luna. They sat together in the library. Shortly after, she found Snape in Dumbledore’s — although I guess it was Snape’s now — Office and McGonagall was descending the stairs from it.

Just before she ran out of hope, Hermione saw Draco’s name appear on the third floor — he must have just exited the Room — and she watched him trek to the Heads Dormitory. He stopped briefly at the portrait hole, probably to give a password, and then entered.

Her heart fluttered a bit and the knots in her stomach untangled. A smile graced her features. This feeling must be why Harry looked at the map every night before bed — for reassurance that the person he loved was alive.

*.*.*.*

_‘Mione,_

_Things are getting bad, and I fear it may get even worse before it gets better._

It was beginning to rain. The raindrops that fell onto the canvas of the tent grew larger and therefore louder with every passing second. And as the raindrops grew, the tension did too.

At the end of the conversation with Phineas Nigellus and after the back and forth communication between Harry and Hermione regarding the usefulness of the Sword of Gryffindor and where it could possibly be, they realized that Ron wasn’t participating in the excitement. They looked around and saw him lying in the bottom of a bunk, scowling.

“Oh, remembered me, have you?”

Immediately, Hermione knew this wasn’t going to end well. An argument between the two boys, fourth year was enough of a reference.

“Problem? There’s no problem.”

Hermione began to wring her hands together, afraid to step in, because who knows what would set one of them off.

“Spit it out, will you?”

“Alright,” Hermione held her breath as Ron paused, “let’s just add this to list of stuff you don’t know.”

“I don’t know?” Harry repeated.

(Uh-oh.) The pit in Hermione’s stomach grew larger. She acknowledged the look on Harry’s face as anger settled in and Ron’s chest squaring as each of them prepared for a battle that will make neither feel better.

“I just hoped, you know, after we’d been running round a few weeks, we’d have achieved something.”

“Ron,” Hermione said his name, but in such a quiet voice that Ron could easily pretend to not have heard over the loud beating of the rain on the tent. All the bells and whistles were going off at once in Hermione’s head, signaling to stop this from happening, to get the two boys on opposite sides of the tent, but words were already being spoken as she thought this, damaging words, and there was no going back. They both needed to say what they were thinking. Ron was frustrated and Harry was feeling like they were against him, and Hermione wasn’t — _she isn’t_ — because she knew the realities of the situation while Ron just hoped for the best.

“We thought Dumbledore had told you what to do, we thought you had a real plan!”

“Ron!” Hermione said, clearly audible over the rain thundering on the roof of the tent, but again, unsurprisingly, he ignored her.

He continued to talk, with a tone of voice that honestly scared her, and he couldn’t imagine him being angry at Harry for this, yes the situation is frustrating, but he shouldn’t be able to cause this large of a —

He’s still wearing the locket.

“Yeah, and we’re no where near finding the rest of them, no where fucking near!”

“Take off the locket, Ron!” Hermione didn’t even recognize her voice as she said these words. “Please take it off. You wouldn’t be talking like this if you hadn’t been wearing it all day.”

“Yeah, he would.” Harry said, not willing to make the locket an excuse. “Do you think I haven’t noticed the two of you whispering behind my back? Do you think I didn’t guess you were thinking this stuff?”

“Harry, we weren’t —”

“Don’t lie!” Ron shouted at her, startling her. Ron was now making a bad situation worse. “You said it too, you said you were disappointed, you said you’d thought he had a bit more to go on than —”

“I didn’t say it like that, Harry, I —”

“Then why are you still here?” Harry was now speaking to both of them. His voice, which had been angrily raised because of the loudness of the rain, was steady, quiet, but still dominant.

Hermione’s face was wet with tears, because she couldn’t fucking believe this was happening, it was only the middle of November, they had been trekking for a little over three months. Ron’s ears were red but not due to embarrassment, but for anger, seething anger. The excitement of a few minutes before had vanished as if it had never been, a short-lived firework that had flared and died, leaving everything dark, wet, and cold. The Sword of Gryffindor was hidden, they knew that, but not where. The only thing the three teenagers had accomplished was successfully pissing each other off.

Ron shrugged, “I guess I don’t have a reason anymore.”

“Then go home.” Harry said with such disdain that Hermione felt the words hit her body one by one over and over again. “Stop sulking, stop being an insufferable arse, stop being a lump who does nothing but whine about Hermione’s cooking. Go back home to your mummy who can feed you and keep you warm and you can pretend you have spattergroit so you won’t be killed because of your involvement with me!”

“Harry —”

“Maybe I will! Then I wouldn’t have to listen to the damned radio all night to make sure I don’t hear Ginny’s name, or Fred, or George, or Mum! I’ll be right there!”

“You don’t think I’m listening too? I know that feeling!”

“NO! No you don’t know that feeling! Your family is DEAD!”

Harry drew his wand faster than Ron but Hermione was faster than both — thanks to wandless magic — and shouted “ _Protego_ ” to send both boys to opposite sides of the tent, like she intended to do before this got out of hand. Both of them glared at her before returning to gazes of pure hatred pointed at one another. Their friendship was broken, shattered farther than anyone or anything can fix. Hermione felt it, the ache beginning in her own heart, that she knew the two of them would feel later if she could just get both of them to stay.

But staying was not Ron’s intention.

“Leave the Horcrux.” Harry said.

Scoffing, Ron wrenched the locket from over his head the threw it to the floor. He turned to Hermione. “What are you gonna do?”

At this moment, Hermione’s brain seemed to malfunction. “What?”

“Are you going to stay?”

Was she going to stay? Of course she was, she promised Harry, she didn’t give up on being Head Girl for nothing. Harry was her best friend and she wasn’t going to leave him to his own devices! He’d be dead within the week. She also wouldn’t have a place to go. She would feel guilty every minute she was away from Harry.

She opened her mouth to tell him “yes” because she promised Harry that she would help him bring down Voldemort, but nothing came out.

Ron took it was a yes anyway and said, “Fine, I get it,” and he left the tent with a huff.

“Wait, Ron!” Hermione shouted, but her Shield Charm stalled her. By the time she exited the tent, Ron’s silhouette was nearly impossible to see because of the rain. She stayed by the opening of the tent as she shouted his name and “come back” over and over. Harry pushed past her, shrugging his jacket on, already shouting his best dueling curses at trees that couldn’t fight back.

Even though it was raining, everything around her seemed to be burning. Her throat burned, her eyes burned, the air burned, the rain burned, everything. The trail Ron left out of the tent was burning, the trees Harry were “fighting” were actually burning, her heart was burning.

*.*.*.*

_Draco,_

_Happy Christmas Eve. Has it really been a year?_

Going to Godric’s Hollow was, she admitted, not a totally great idea, but she knew they had to talk to Bathilda Bagshot. What she hadn’t anticipated was Bathilda already being dead and Nagini being inside her. Now Harry was unconscious and injured.

She tried to focus on what she could do to help him, but the Horcrux had been stuck to his chest, nearly fused to his skin. Separating it was difficult, and he will most likely be in pain for a few days, but it was no longer attached to his body and was sitting lifelessly at the other end of the table.

She sat in the kitchen area of the tent, rolling a cup of water around and around and around on the tabletop, staring at the offending locket. She almost didn’t want to wear it anymore, but there was something about the way that it latched itself onto Harry’s body.

It was like it was trying to connect with another … Horcrux.

Shaking herself from thoughts that would lead to an inevitable realization, she focused on the day.

Hermione couldn’t help but feel the familiarity of the scene — sitting in a kitchen, wearing pajamas, on Christmas Eve. (Although, it was now Christmas Day).

But this time, she was alone.

(Well, mostly alone.)

Harry had been unconscious for hours now, but he started to make noises. It could just be a nightmare, so she doesn’t immediately go over to him. She returned her gaze to the locket and squinted at it. The yellow gem shined in the dim light and it taunted her. How could it sit there, so innocent-like, like it wasn’t just attached to Harry?

She could hear Harry mumbling “no” over and over again and deduced it may be more than a nightmare.

*.*.*.*

_Dear Hermione,_

_I wish we had run._

Ron had somehow managed to find them, and while his story of a “tiny ball of light” was cute and all, Hermione didn’t have the heart to tell him why she said his name at all.

She and Harry had been talking about possible next steps, now that Bathilda was dead and therefore had no helpful knowledge to give while they were in Godric’s Hollow. Theirfuture was uncertain.

“We should be moving soon, we can’t stay in one place for too long now,” Harry said.

Hermione sighed, “I suppose we could move west. But eventually we’ll hit water, and then Ireland.”

“Maybe they won’t look in Ireland.” Harry joked half-heartedly, and he looked up in time to see the smile fall off of Hermione’s face.

“They’ll look everywhere,” she whispered, “may take more time, but they’ll keep looking.”

“You say that with such certainty,” Harry commented, sipping his water.

Hermione glanced at him momentarily, mentally weighing the outcome of bringing up Draco. “We talked about running away to America.”

Harry was surprised to hear her talk about him, as she hadn’t mentioned him since her birthday. “You did?”

“Yeah … we talked about Ilvermony, and New York, and the subway,” she chuckled as she said this. “Clearly us running away together didn’t happen.”

“Well, obviously,” Harry smiled in spite of his mixed emotions about their relationship. “When did you talk about this?”

Hermione smiled sadly at his question and shrugged. “A while ago.”

Harry didn’t know how to respond to her vagueness. “If you weren’t friends with Ron and me … would you have run?”

Hermione hadn’t thought about it. She allowed herself to say, “Maybe,” and then the subject was dropped. “But then Ron would’ve asked a whole bunch of questions, and I don’t know if I’m ready to answer them.”

*.*.*.*

_‘Mione,_

_Luna Lovegood and Dean Thomas are in the dungeon of my house. What do I do?_

It was still snowing around midnight when Draco left his bedroom and wandered into the kitchen. Dinner has been a disastrous affair as his father told him some Death Eaters had recently captured “the Lovegood girl” and are ransoming her. When Draco asked where they were holding her, Lucius didn’t answer immediately.

That was Draco’s answer.

He grabbed some bread and an apple for a midnight snack before trying to sleep, and on his way back to his room, he stopped at the door that hid the stairs that led down to the dungeon.

He stared at the door for a long minute … everyone was asleep or doing their own thing, no one would be going into the dungeon until the morning, if they are even feeding her regularly. His eyes darted from left to right, and then he opened the door.

It was dark, and it was dusty, and it smelled damp and a bit like blood.

“Shh, someone’s coming,” he heard a very familiar voice say.

On the last step, Draco could see the silhouette of two, maybe three people, and he reached for his wand to provide a light source.

“ _Lumos_ ,” he whispered and light flooded the space.

“Draco?” Luna had her feet and hands bound with rope and her lip was split open. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s still Winter Break,” he responded, “but I am going back in a few days.” He noted Dean Thomas and a goblin in similar states of disarray. “Are they keeping you here?”

“ _They_ being your fellow Death Eaters?” The goblin spit at Draco and Draco’s eyes cast downwards.

“Harry said that you didn’t kill Dumbledore,” Dean said, uncertainty clear in his voice. “And …” He stopped before he said anything because even though the relationship was over, it was still a secret that couldn’t be voiced. “And I don’t think you’re a real Death Eater.”Draco split the bread and broke the apple in half to give to them. “If it weren’t for my mother being Bellatrix Lestrange’s sister … I would be down here with you too.”

Luna looked up at him while he crouched down and mended her lip. “You’re different than you were …”

“Yeah, well,” Draco scoffed, “I guess people _can_ change.” The goblin still didn’t look amused. “I thought it was just you down here, but I can bring more food.”

For the rest of the nights he was home during the break, and all the other times he was home, he snuck down to the dungeon to give extra food to the “captives.”

*.*.*.*

_Draco,_

_If anyone had told me how much I would end up loving you, I would have laughed. But here I am._

As soon as Voldemort’s name exited Harry’s mouth, Hermione knew they were in trouble. There wasn’t enough time to pack up and leave, the Snatchers would be there any moment.

“Harry — here.” She threw him his jacket and quickly threw anything she could find in the beaded bag.

They heard the pop-popping of people Apparating all around them. “Come out of there with your hands up!” Someone shouted from the darkness. “We know you’re in there, you’ve got half a dozen wands pointed at you and we don’t care who we curse!”

There’s a scuffle and punches are thrown and Hermione doesn’t know what’s going to happen next. She said her name was Penelope Clearwater, half-blood, and with Harry’s face bloated and his eye puffed up, no one could see the scar. Just when it looks like they’re going to be fine, Scabior comes out of their tent with a copy of the _Daily_ _Prophet_ that happens to have a picture of the three of them on the cover.

“You know what, girlie? This picture looks a hell of a lot like you.”

“It isn’t — it isn’t me!” The squeak that emitted from Hermione’s mouth was as good as a confession.

There’s a silence that settles over the Snatchers until Greyback mutters, “Well this changes everything, doesn’t it?”

What does he know that I don’t? Hermione began to tremble as Greyback looks directly in her face and then moves over to look at Harry’s. “You know, _Vernon_ , what’s that on your forehead?”

“Don’t touch it!” Harry nearly screamed, and Hermione recognizes that he must be fighting off images from Voldemort’s mind because he never acts like this unless he’s in serious pain.

Greyback tilted his head to the side and said, “I thought you wore glasses, Potter?”

The glasses, oh shit, the glasses …

“I found glasses!” One of the other Snatchers exited their tent and sang these words gleefully.

Seconds later the glasses were being rammed onto Harry’s head and Greyback audibly gasped. “We’ve done it boys — we’ve caught Potter!”

The Snatchers start excitedly yammering about where they need to go — the Ministry? The hideaway? Or directly to the Dark Lord himself?

“Are you going to summon him?” Scabior asked Greyback, sounding awed yet terrified.

“No,” Greyback snapped. “They say he’s using the Malfoys’ place. We’ll just go there.”

All of the oxygen in Hermione’s lungs suddenly left her and she can’t breathe. Harry must notice between his scar stinging and the triumphant laughs of the Snatchers. She can’t breathe and her heart was hammering against her ribs. She shook her head slowly and tried to inhale, but she couldn’t. Or she could and she was breathing too fast.

Regardless — she was terrified.

They Apparate and land outside the gates of the Malfoy Manor and it’s just like how Draco described it all those months ago. Dark and dreary. Eerily silent. Frustratingly clean. Greyback was shouting at the top of his lungs, “We’ve got Potter!” and the gates swung open to allow their entrance.

What day was it? Had the Easter holidays begun? Would Draco even be there? Would Voldemort be awaiting their arrival and kill Harry — kill all of them — on the spot?

They were welcomed into what was probably one of the five parlors and Narcissa Malfoy inspects Harry’s face with scrutiny. She said, “I cannot say for sure, but …”

Oh god oh god oh god —

“My son Draco is home for the Easter holidays. If this is Harry Potter, he will certainly know.”

Narcissa led them to the drawing room where two blond men rose at their entrance.

“What is this?” The dreadfully familiar voice of Lucius Malfoy fell on everyone’s ears.

“They say, they have Potter,” Narcissa explained. “Draco, come here.”

Hermione felt like throwing up, but that would cause a scene, so she stood behind Harry, still trembling, as Draco slowly approached them. He was pale as ever, perhaps more so than before that fateful Christmas Eve. She couldn’t dare continue to look at him and yet she couldn’t look away. It seemed that Draco was having a similar internal dilemma as he nearly stopped breathing at the sight of the _Golden Trio_ in his house.

Harry’s breathing quickened as Draco came nearer and Hermione was slowly realizing there was no way out of this situation. She stared at the back of Harry’s head until Harry, on purpose or otherwise, moved ever so slightly to the right — until the grey eyes of Draco Malfoy met her brown ones.

She inhaled sharply and yet couldn’t find a reason to look away (although there were about ten really good reasons surrounding her). She blinked slowly and a tear rolled down her cheek without permission. Harry moved back in her line sight, but only halfway.

“Well boy?” Greyback practically bit the question, startling them all.

Looking at Hermione once more, he said, “I … I can’t be sure.”

But Greyback and Lucius were having none of that. “Look again!” and “Take a closer look!” were among their continuous requests for Draco to say yes. Lucius even dared to come right up to Draco’s side, inches away from Harry’s face. Hermione found herself noting the similarities between their faces — Lucius’ was full of abounding excitement while Draco’s held resentment and … fear.

“What about the Mudblood then?” Greyback growled. Harry found himself being pushed to the side and all the attention was suddenly on Hermione.

“Wait,” Narcissa commanded, “I remember her being in Madam Malkin’s with Potter, and her picture has been in the _Prophet_! Look, Draco, isn’t it the Granger girl?”

Hermione looked at him once more, trying to convey _there’s no way out of this situation_ and _just do what they tell you_ and _it’s okay_.

He took a deep breath. “I … maybe … yes.”

“Then, this must be the Weasley boy!” Lucius shouted with victory. “Isn’t this Arthur Weasley’s son — what’s his name, Draco?”

In a very noncommittal tone, Draco shrugged and said, “Yeah … it _could_ be them.”

The door swung open behind them and Bellatrix Lestrange sauntered in the Drawing Room. She stopped at the sight of all the people crowding around one area. “What is going on, Cissy?” Before Narcissa could answer and before the blink of an eye, Bellatrix was in front of Hermione. “But surely … surely this is the Mudblood girl? This is the Granger girl?”

What did Bellatrix know? Certainly she wouldn’t act like this unless she knew something? Or maybe Hermione was overthinking it because Bellatrix just _really_ hated Muggleborns. Bellatrix’s gleeful look was hardly unnoticeable.

Hermione looked past Bellatrix and caught Draco’s eyes again. He had resumed his sitting position in the armchair by the fire and he looked rather distraught.

“Take them all downstairs to the dungeons, Greyback.” He jutted forward to follow her demand, but he stopped when she spoke again, “Wait …”

Hermione knew what was coming, the way she was piercing her with her stare, the snarl on her lips, the white fingers dancing in the air …

Oh god oh god —

“The girl stays.”


	18. Eighteen - Winter Song (Interlude)

_loving, leaving, it’s too late for this now  
_ _such esteem for each has gone  
_ _has time driven our season away  
_ _‘cause that’s the way it seems_  
_in the world of the speech that is new  
_ _I’ll be back again to stay_

_Even though it was raining, everything around her seemed to be burning. Her throat burned, her eyes burned, the air burned, the rain burned, everything. The trail Ron left out of the tent was burning, the trees Harry were “fighting” were actually burning, her heart was burning._

And at once, she had made a decision. Slipping back into the tent, she knew Harry couldn’t hear her screams anymore, so he figured she had gone inside to cry, which was partly true. She grabbed her wand and pulled on her jacket, hat, scarf, and gloves (because she didn’t need to be sick too). She exited the tent, and glanced over at Harry taking his anger out on trees and rocks that were inanimate, and couldn’t defend themselves. Although it was a scary thought, it was moments like these that made Hermione think Harry was more like Tom Riddle than he could comprehend. But she shook her head, unwilling to let those thoughts enter now. She cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself, closed her eyes, and breathed slowly.

And she Disapparated.

She kept her eyes shut even after she reached her destination. The familiar sound of birds chirping and the smell of rain in the air calmed her rapidly beating heart. It was not raining here, though the pavement smelled damp, and she was already warmer than at her previous location.

In front of her stood her childhood home. The house was empty, no one had moved in. The rumors circling the inhabitants, namely Hermione, were enough to scare away the eager family from moving in. The potted plants were gone, and the purple curtains that once hung were no longer shielding the outside world from her room. There was a large padlock hanging on the front door, and the sign in the front still read “FOR SALE.” She almost hoped the house was never purchased so her parents could move in again after the war was over ...

If the war ever ended.

Why did she come here? Why did she leave? The thought of following Ron seemed like a good plan, until she realized she couldn’t go to the obvious places to look for him, as it would be too risky to attempt. The idea of leaving in general fueled her veins, like after Harry told her in the Great Hall that Ron had been poisoned, and she ran because she felt guilty. Does she feel guilty now? No. Now she just feels like she needs guidance.

She wished she could speak to her mother, Jean Granger was good with compromising situations. Is that why she came here? Was it so she could talk aloud to her house, as if it was a way to communicate with her mum that was now living in Australia without the memory of even being a mother?

The skin on the back of her neck prickled, she felt like she was being watched. Shit, was she still invisible? She quickly looked down at her hands and realized she was not. Maybe one of the neighbors peaked outside and saw her. She slowly looked around, scared to immediately place the spell back on in case a Muggle was watching. Over her left shoulder, she quickly scanned, and nothing. Over her right shoulder and —

He was there.

He was in the middle of the street, as if he had been walking closer and closer to her for a moment, almost _afraid_ it was her but _desperate_ for it to be her at the same time. Why would she be at her old house? Would she wonder why he was in London, given it was only the middle of November? Would she even want to see him?

But she saw him. And it was quiet, and it was slow, and it was soul-shattering; the delicacy of the moment was recognized by both of them.

Both of their minds raced with possible explanations or plans or apologies or outbursts or declarations … but in the middle of the street that held Hermione’s house, time slowed down, and nothing else mattered.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione practically breathed the only question that came to her so her mind could stop racing for just a fucking second.

“I was home, for a meeting. It was ... bad, so Mum suggested I take a walk, and I — I always walk here,” Draco confessed, similarly breathless as she. “Every time I come by I hope you three are hiding here, but I realize that ... wouldn’t work because they know where your house is.” Flashes from the first of the year — _was it only eleven months ago?_ — slid into her mind, and she had to push them away. “Why are you here?” His voice was not filled with disgust or contempt, only pure curiosity.

“Ron left,” she said quietly, and she was almost surprised at her abruptness, but not really. “He and Harry had a spat,” she chuckled at the language she chose to use. “No, Harry and Ron had a huge fucking argument that basically tore their friendship in half that ended in Ron leaving and Harry burning down trees, and I’m standing in front of my house … wondering where the time went.” Tears filled her eyes again, and he was unsure if he should even touch her, embrace her, console her — things had changed so much ... so fast. “And all I can think about is how much I miss you. Because, dammit I do, Draco. I miss you more than I can comprehend. And I don’t think I’m even angry anymore ...”

“You should be,” he replied softly.

She chuckled and sniffed back tears. “I understand ... why you did what you did. And I understand being scared, not for yourself, but for your mum. Hell, I erased my parents’ memories of my existence, because I couldn’t stand the thought of them being hurt because of me. So I understand.” She fiddled with the zipper of her jacket, and Draco was able to catch a glimpse of the necklace resting on her chest.

“You’re still wearing it,” he murmured and stepped closer to her. He tentatively reached out and traced the chain. She smiled up at him and placed her hand on his.

“Of course I am.” She whispered and lifted her head to kiss him slowly.

Oh, it had been so long since they had held each other. They slipped into the house and built a fire in the fireplace. They laid in front of its warm glow and breathed in each other. He placed open-mouthed kisses on her neck and chest and she moaned, feeling the long-lost fire ignite within her.

He wanted this to last for as long as they could draw it out. It had been four months since June and it would probably be months before they see each other again, so why not be rash, why not be reckless, why not.

Why not be careless and just enjoy their short time together?

Afterwards, while lying in front of the dying fire, Draco played with the ends of her hair as she tucked herself into his side, her forehead pressed to his collarbone.

“Do you want to run away with me?” She exhaled her question into his chest.

“I’d love to,” he whispered into her hair. “Where do you want to go?”

“Mmm, I heard America has nice places.”

“They do,” he agreed, “lots of history in a country like that.”

“So many historical tours to take, so little time.”

“They have their own school too.”

“Ilvermony, I know.” She sighed. “It’s in Massachusetts.”

“Is that close to New York?”

She snorted laughter into his neck. “Yeah, it’s like the next state over.”

He chuckled, “It would be nice to see what all the fuss is about. New York is supposed to be pretty amazing.”

“Yeah, there’s Broadway … Times Square —”

“The subway, which I mean, c’mon, that’s a cool Muggle invention. Trains underground?” They both laugh at his comment, but her giggling stops before his.

“An easy place to hide with so many people packed in the city like sardines … would take them quite a long time to find us.”

Her comment abruptly stops their conversation about running away to America.

It makes them realize that their conversation is just that —

Hypothetical.

When she returned to the tent, it had been hours.

She hadn’t meant for her to be gone for so long, but she also didn’t know what fate had in store for her upon leaving. Harry had been in full panic mode, realizing a few hours after Ron left — was it really only hours ago that the magnificently large fight had occurred? — that Hermione was no where to be found.

She apologized for scaring him and reaffirmed that she would not be leaving him. He asked her where she had gone, but she didn’t tell him the truth. He knew it too, but he didn’t press the topic farther.

He was just grateful she had returned.


	19. Nineteen - Death and All His Friends

_no, I don’t want to battle from beginning to end_  
_I don’t want a cycle of recycled revenge  
_ _I don’t want to follow death and all of his friends_

_“Take them all downstairs to the dungeons, Greyback.” He jutted forward to follow her demand, but he stopped when she spoke again, “Wait …”_

_Hermione knew what was coming, the way she was piercing her with her stare, the snarl on her lips, the white fingers dancing in the air …_

_Oh god oh god —_

_“The girl stays.”_

Hermione could hear Ron immediately shouting in protest behind her, and she could see Draco shoot up into a standing position behind his parents, but she knew neither of them were capable of stopping Bellatrix from getting what she wanted. She nodded her head once at Harry, unsure if this was the last time she would ever see her best friend. Bellatrix used her knife to cut Hermione free from the others and grabbed her by her hair to lead her into the middle of the room. The boys were led down to the dungeon and Hermione's body unexpectedly connected with the ground, her head bouncing off the hardwood floor. She yelped as the pain radiated around her head and down her spine.

This was only the beginning.

Bellatrix always had a flair for the dramatic, and it didn't stop just because she was torturing someone. She not only used magic, but also her own hands to smack her around.

Hermione could faintly hear Ron screaming from the dungeon as Bellatrix repeatedly asked her where they got the sword, and if it was real, and if they had been to Gringotts and inside her vault.

The repeated answers that came out of Hermione's mouth were not enough to convince the crazy woman. It was true, they had just _found it_ (in the middle of a pond), and no, they hadn't been to her vault (but maybe now there was a reason to).

Maybe Harry and Ron would find a way out of the dungeons and rescue her, and then they would be able to leave this place. (Not that she ever wanted to be the "damsel in distress" but right now she was _in_ _distress_.)

"How did you get into my vault?" Bellatrix screamed again and again.

"We've never … we've never been inside your vault! It isn't the real sword," Hermione sobbed, "it's a fake!"

"A fake? A likely story!"

Hermione coughed from the ground and tears kept falling. Through the tears, she could see the blurry outline of Bellatrix, Greyback, and Lucius. They looked overly excited at the sight of her tears. Bellatrix must've realized that her questioning was not getting her anywhere and decided to hold Hermione's arm down. She drew her small knife with a devilish grin on her lips.

"No, no!" Hermione screamed as the knife dug into the skin of her forearm. The knife seemed to cut into her skin for hours until it suddenly wasn't, and she could vaguely hear Bellatrix questioning Griphook the goblin in a similar manner.

And as she stared at the ceiling of the Malfoy Manor Drawing Room, blood spilling from the cuts on her arm that undoubtably spelled out ' _mudblood_ ', she could feel someone probing her mind. Fearing it was Bellatrix trying a new method of obtaining information, she tried putting up a fight. The person backed off, whispering into her mind, "Please …"

Turning her head slowly, Narcissa was right there with wide eyes. Against her better judgement, she blinked her eyes once, slowly, deliberately, allowing her into mind. She felt the mother of the boy she loved poke and prod at her most sacred of memories.

"And I think," Bellatrix's voice broke the spell, "we can dispose of the Mudblood, don't you? Greyback, take her if you want."

At that point, Ron burst into the room screaming "NO!" and charged straight at Bellatrix. The crazed woman raised her wand at his face —

"No," Hermione whispered, but no one heard her.

— and spells flew back and forth above her, but she had no energy to get up. That didn't matter — Bellatrix roughly pulled her into a standing position and held a knife to her throat. She couldn't open her eyes more than a fraction of an inch, and she felt blood trickling down her arm.

"Stop or she dies!" Bellatrix's voice was loud and caused a reverberating pain to shoot through Hermione's body. "Stop, or we will see just how filthy her blood is."

Ron didn't seem to want to do anything, and then a squeaky noise stopped everyone's movements. They frantically looked for the source, and it wasn't until Narcissa gasped when they realized it was due to Dobby the House Elf unscrewing the crystal chandelier from the ceiling. The chandelier began to tremble and the crystals jingling ominously. Bellatrix let go of Hermione, the knife cutting her neck in the process, and jumped to the side with a scream. Hermione, unable to hold herself up, began to sink to the floor as the chandelier began to fall.

But all of a sudden she was pushed out of the way and landed on the floor in front of Harry.

It was a blur after that — and somehow they ended up in the grass outside a small cottage. It was late, the stars and the moon shining brightly, but the lights were still on inside, and the silhouettes of Bill and Fleur Weasley could be seen through the windows.

All Hermione knew was that she would never set foot in the Malfoy Manor ever again.

*.*.*.*

Headmaster Severus Snape entered his office after a particularly rough dinner in the Great Hall. It was not enjoyable to see the students of Hogwarts distraught and bruised and bloody, the students that Dumbledore reminded him on a daily basis that were going to be the ones that fight the Death Eaters once they infiltrate Hogwarts when Harry comes back to get the last Horcrux.

(Because of course Dumbledore knows everything.)

What Snape was not anticipating was an on-alert Narcissa Malfoy in his office.

"Severus."

If Snape could be startled, he certainly was now, however he recovered quickly. "Narcissa, what a wonderful surprise," he drawled.

"You are aware of what happened in the Manor while Draco was home for the Spring Holiday, right?"

Of course, he had heard. Voldemort would not stop talking about their incompetence. Now that Snape thought about it, he hadn't heard if any of them had actually survived. "I am aware of few facts."

"Here's what you need to know: Hermione Granger was tortured on the floor of the drawing room and Bellatrix carved 'mudblood' into her arm."

Oh yes, Snape thought, the Dark Lord _may_ have mentioned something about that.

"Alright —"

"And Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were in our basement along with Dean Thomas, Luna Lovegood, Griphook the Goblin, and Mr. Olivander the wandmaker."

"And they all —"

“Escaped yes, with the help of Dobby, our previous House Elf."

"Narcissa, I know most of this —"

"Draco told me." Narcissa, the ever put-together woman, was shaking in her seat. "Bella … tortured her in front of him, in front of all of us. Her screams were painful enough to listen to as a bystander, but to the person who loves her —" she shook her head — "I had to know."

Snape wasn't sure where she was going with this story, so he waited for her to continue.

"I had to know what she knew. Not about what they're doing or why they were brought to the Manor or what they stole from Bella's vault — no — I … I needed to know if she truly loved my son."

"Narcissa … what did you do?" He asked slowly. In his portrait from above, Dumbledore casually peered down into the room, curious as well.

"I … I searched her memories. She had no strength left, she couldn't fight me off. She laid there and stared at me as I did it. She willingly let me in and, and I could see all these wonderful things. God, these kids were fantastic at keeping it all a secret. I saw it: she makes my son happy." Severus hadn't said anything, although he thought about saying that _no they really weren't good at hiding it because half the school knew_ , but instead he was looking out the window, into the courtyard where a light rain had begun, forcing the students inside. "I want to help them."

He was quiet for a few moments. Dumbledore waited, from his portrait, for Snape to say something. He knew the whole thing was too close for comfort for the man. He believes that if you call the girl you love a mudblood once, you're done for, you will never get another chance. But Hermione had already forgiven Draco, an act that Lily was incapable of doing when Snape called her one. And Draco had probably said it 400 or more times in his life, to her face and behind her back. But there was a difference. Draco was taught his views on blood status. Snape adopted his. There was a way to fix it … but it wasn't up to Snape, or Narcissa, or even Dumbledore.

"Narcissa, the only way to help them is to encourage the idea that they should return to each other once He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named is finally dead. We can make sure both are alive, try to make it so — will it so — but there aren't enough Unbreakable Vows to be had in order for them to be happy again." Snape seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, but returned to the present to say this, "Miss Granger already forgave him once, maybe he'll get a second chance."

*.*.*.*

It had been a a little over a week since the skirmish in the Malfoys' Drawing Room, and Ron hovered around Hermione whenever they were in the same room. It was clear to her that her torture affected him almost as much, if not more, than it affected her. But, she couldn't continue "leading him on" as Harry called it.

Hermione glanced out the window of her temporary room at Shell Cottage, absentmindedly rubbing her bandaged arm. "Ron ... I have to tell you a couple things." She turned to look at the redhead and swallowed hard. "And ... I don't think you're gonna like them, but can you please just listen before you say or do anything?" She walked to him, her hands clasped together as if she was begging him to agree to her terms.

Ron looked hard at her, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach with the feeling of uneasiness. He began nodding slowly. "Yeah, alright." Together they exited the cottage and stepped onto the sand and felt the ocean breeze.

"Telling you this is probably the cruelest thing I'll ever do to you, but you need to know." She took a deep breath and paused before taking a few steps down the hill to the shore. He was watching her as she bit her lip and ran a hand through her hair. She abruptly continued, causing Ron to trip a little, but he regained his balance after she began her story.

"Two Christmases ago, you were with Lavendar and I didn't want to spend Christmas with you because of how angry and hurt I was. I was right in front of you, and I loved you, and I … I knew I couldn't be around you for three and a half weeks. I asked my parents to spend Christmas with them, but they had already made plans … " She stopped a moment with the incredible urge to owl her parents and say that she was fine and she would be coming home soon, but they were in Australia and have no memory of her. Swallowing back her tears, she continued.

"Anyway, I stayed at Hogwarts. That's when I met Aspen, and taught her to be proud of her magic. But … I also found out that Draco was a Death Eater —"

"And you didn't tell us?" Ron asked indignantly.

She shushed him, "Remember, no speaking until I'm done." He sighed and shoved his hands farther into his pockets, nodding to get her to speak again.

"I had followed him into the Room of Requirement and had quite the shouting match when he realized I was in there too. He revealed the mark and … I wasn't afraid of him. He looked so distraught and frustrated, I said that I wouldn't tell anyone and left. We didn't even look at each other for days."

Hermione continued with the story of Christmas Eve and the library in the Room of Requirement. She mentioned New Year's Eve but didn't go into detail. When everyone came back from the holiday, he ignored her, and that obviously didn't go over well. She tried to find Ron appealing the same way she had before, but now it wasn't the same. Watching him and Lavendar was just annoying, not heartbreaking.

Ron started to say something, but she put a finger over his mouth and shook her head. "I was just starting to be happy that you were happy when you were coming to your senses and realizing that you weren't happy." She regretfully admitted the reason no one could find her on his birthday was because she was with Draco and didn't find out until the next morning. After the argument with Harry, she ran into Ginny and poured her heart out.

"So Ginny knew, all this time?"

Hermione nodded slowly and said, "So did Harry."

Ron looked crushed.

"When Draco and Harry got in that fight in the bathroom, I was the one that found them, not Snape. I was on my way to meet Draco, and I found him, bleeding out on the floor. I told Harry to get help but he just _stood_ there. I was so scared. Snape heard the commotion and showed up just in time. He would have died …"

They were at the water's edge now, and she sat down on, pulling her knees to her chest. Ron also sat down, cross-legged, and gestured for her to continue.

When she found out that it was him all along, she smashed the picture frame and ran out. That was end of it — he didn't need to know about November — and now the three of them were on the run.

Ron was playing with the sand and she watched him, silently willing him to speak.

"Ron, I —"

"I think … I think I knew." Hermione's eyebrows knitted together at his admission. "Our final in Potions was to make Amortentia, 'member? We had hours to make it, and naturally, you were done first. I tried to catch a glimpse of your steps to see if I was anywhere close to doing it right, and that's when I saw what you wrote down for what you smelled." Hermione looked down, finding her shoelaces suddenly fascinating. "Apples, crisp cotton, and aftershave … apples, crisp cotton, and aftershave …"

She felt a few tears spill, and she shook her head, but when she opened her mouth to speak, Ron said, "No. It's … look, I just, I just want you to be happy. We're best friends, and if that's all we'll ever be, then …" He sighed, grabbed her fidgety hands and held them in his. "Hermione, do you love him?"

She looked at him, his blue eyes piercing right through her. She couldn't lie to him, she couldn't lie to herself. "I do," she whispered.

"And does he love you?"

"I … I think so," she sniffled. The sun was casting a warm glow on Hermione's face, the sea breeze pushed itself through her hair. She looked down at her still bandaged forearm, tears from the memory of that night prickling the back of her eyes. "Please, don't be mad at him. He couldn't stop Bellatrix from hurting me without giving himself away. I understand the position he was in —"

"I don't," Ron said stubbornly, crossing his arms. "He should have stopped her."

"And what, _die_?"

Ron made an indignant noise. "At least he didn't let you get crushed by the chandelier.”

" _He_ pushed me out of the way? I thought it was you …" She looked worried, sure he probably experienced some battering because of it.

"I wasn't fast enough," Ron said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"When all this is over, we'll …" She stopped, suddenly realizing she had absolutely no clue what they would do. "Well, I don't really know what will happen."

Ron wrapped his arm around her shoulders and rubbed her arm. "It'll be over soon," he whispered.

*.*.*.*

Their arrival at Hogwarts wasn't well-hidden. The Death Eaters guarding Hogsmeade were quick and almost caught the three of them, but Aberforth was quicker. When Harry, Ron, and Hermione stumbled through the portrait hole with Neville and into the new room, she felt her throat close up with tears. So many people were gathered in the Room and they all looked worse for wear, but they all looked relieved to see the Golden Trio _alive_.

"Okay, okay, calm down!" Neville shouted above the masses. With the voices turned off, the three were able to take in their surroundings. There were multicolored hammocks, tapestries for each house (except Slytherin), bulging bookcases, and broomsticks propped against the walls.

There was only one place that could provide this much stuff for the remaining members of Dumbledore's Army.

The Room of Requirement.

"Surpassed itself, hasn't it?" Neville's voice infiltrated Hermione's thoughts. "I was running from the Carrows, and I knew I needed a place to hide — a _good_ place to hide. When I first came in, there was only one hammock and just the Gryffindor hangings, but as more members of the D.A. arrived, it expanded to fit everyone." Hermione ran her fingers along the red and gold tassels that hung along the edge of the Gryffindor tapestry. She felt an odd sense of satisfaction at the Room's ability to help the ones she loved get through the worst year of their life.

"The Carrows can't get in?" Harry asked, looking for a door.

"Nope," Seamus Finnigan popped up, and he was almost unrecognizable with a bruised and puffy face. "It's a proper hideaway, as long as one of us stays in here, they can't get to us, the door won't open. It's all thanks to Neville — he really gets this room. He knows what to say so none of the Carrow supporters can get in. Neville's the man!"

"It's really straightforward actually," Neville said, trying to be modest.

"We've been hiding here for almost two weeks. It just keeps adding hammocks every time someone new comes, and it even added a pretty decent bathroom for when the girls started showing up —"

"It knew we'd like to be clean, thank you Seamus," Lavendar Brown added, and Hermione couldn't help but giggle at the comment. Looking around properly, the trio noticed quite a few familiar faces like the Patil twins, Ernie Macmillan, and Anthony Goldstein.

"Please tell us what you've been up to," Ernie pleaded. "There've been so many rumours, we've been trying to keep up with _Potterwatch_. You didn't break into Gringotts, did you?"

Hermione felt her face flush. "We may have."

"And the part with the dragon — that's true too." Neville added. There was scattered applause and Ron took a deep bow.

But the laughter stopped when they realized Harry was bent over in pain, gasping for breath. Immediately, Hermione grasped his hand and brought him back to reality. He looked into her eyes and up at Ron and they knew — they had to get what they came for and leave before anyone got hurt.

"We need to get going," he told the others.

"What are we gonna do, Harry? What's the plan?" Seamus asked, ready to jump in and help any way he could.

"Plan?" Harry repeated in a doubt-filled voice.

"Well, there's something that the three of us need to do —" Hermione began.

"And we'll leave as soon as we can," Ron finished. No one was laughing or cheering anymore. They had serious looks on their face and Neville looked confused and concerned.

"What do you mean, 'leave'?"

"We're not staying," Harry was rubbing his scar. "We need to do something important and —"

"It has to do with defeating You-Know-Who, doesn't it?"

"Well, yes but —"

"Then we'll help you." The other members of Dumbledore's Army were nodding, some enthusiastically, others solemnly.

"You don't understand —"

"Harry, we've been with you since 5th Year, we're not leaving you alone. You've had Hermione and Ron for eight months, now you get all of us." Neville stood his ground. "We are not leaving you."

Before Harry could respond, the tunnel door swung open behind him.

"We got your message, Neville! Hello you three, I figured you'd be here." It was Luna who spoke while climbing out of the hole, and Dean followed closely behind her. At the sight of his best friend, Seamus let out a roar of delight and rushed ahead (pushing Harry out of the way) to hug him.

"Luna, what are you _doing_ here?"

"I sent for her," Neville held up his fake Galleon. "I promised her and Ginny that if you turned up I'd let them know. We all thought that if you came back, it would mean revolution. That we were going to overthrow Snape and the Carrows."

"Of course that's what this means," Luna said, "We're going to fight them at Hogwarts."

"Hold on! I'm sorry, but that's not what we came back for. We have to do one thing and then —”

"You're just going to leave us?" Anthony demanded.

"No, Anthony, we have a purpose for coming here and that's it —"

"Hermione, don't defend him," he bit back. Their confusing past made her unsure if she should press on.

"Harry. Let. Us. Help." Neville ground out. "We want to be a part of this."

Hermione turned back to look at Harry and she shrugged her shoulders ever so slightly. There was no way of deterring their friends in front of them, and she knew it. The war was going to end tonight and there was no stopping it.

"I don't … have a plan," he mumbled to her.

"Oh Harry, we don't need a plan!" The tunnel door had swung open again, revealing a bunch of redheaded people. "We'll just make it up as we go — it's my favourite type of plan!" Fred exclaimed.

"Neville!" Harry shouted, startling Hermione and Ron and probably a few others. "You've got to stop this. What did you call them for? This is insane —"

"We're fighting, aren't we?" Dean asked, holding up his Galleon, his other hand grasping Seamus' shoulder. "The message said that Harry was back, and we are going to fight! I'll have to get a wand, though —"

"You haven't got a _wand_?!" Seamus yelped, smacking his arm.

Ron turned to Harry now, "We can't stop them, let's just let them help. We don't have to tell them what we're looking for is a Horcrux."

Harry clearly looked uncomfortable but Hermione added quietly, "He's right. Harry, we don't even know what we're looking for. We need their help." When he didn't answer, she pressed on, "You don't have to do everything alone … Harry."

Looking between the two of them, and then past them to glance at Ginny's profile for a few too many seconds, he nodded slowly. "Alright … you're right. Let's do it."


	20. Twenty - Second Chances

_I get older and life fades but you remain  
_ _open up again  
_ _I believe in second chances  
_ _please let me in  
_ _oh I believe in second chances  
_ _I won’t break you  
_ _I will not let you down_  
 _open up again  
_ _I believe in second chances_

It was all over.

Voldemort was gone, every last piece of him. Harry was a Horcrux, and she was so sure her best friend was gone — _dead_ — in order for everyone else to have a better life not half an hour ago. But he rolled out of Hagrid’s arms and Draco _threw him his wand_ and damn she couldn’t tell if her heart was soaring because of Harry being alive or of Draco showing his true loyalty.

Before Voldemort appeared with Harry’s body, Hermione and Ron had destroyed the cup in the Chamber of Secrets and he was talking about the house elves being real people and she just couldn’t fucking _help it_. Five years of repressed feelings and confusion just exploded and she kissed him.

She kissed him … and she had the _worst_ realization she could have.

He wasn’t Draco Malfoy.

He noticed her somber expression as she pulled away and nodded silently. He knew, he understood, it was okay, they would be okay.

After emerging from the chamber, they found Ginny standing in front of the part of the swamp Flitwick had kept from when the twins left Hogwarts two years ago. She was crying.

“Ginny?” Hermione asked, reaching out to put a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“He’s gone,” she choked out.

“How did you know that Harry went to Him?” Ron asked.

“Not Harry,” she cried. “Fred. He … Ron, he …” Ginny couldn’t speak, she just threw her arms around Hermione and sobbed.

Ron practically flew down the staircases to the Great Hall. After throwing open the doors and seeing the huddled redheads, he forgot about everything — his best friend, his desire to kill Voldemort — and hurried to go cry with George, who had lost not only his twin, but more importantly, his best friend.

Now, after it was all said and done, she was by herself, wandering the Hogwarts grounds in search of wounded or dead bodies. She had seen enough death and destruction for a lifetime — now all she wanted to do was sleep for weeks.

“Hermione,” he said her name quietly from the shadows in the courtyard, and she whirled around to see him walking out from behind a wall. There were still people milling about, trying to find items or people to save from the wreckage. She was worried someone would see him, because if a Ministry official saw him, it was likely he would end up in Azkaban, at least for a little while. But she rushed to him anyway and threw her arms around him.

She was crying almost instantaneously as her body collided into his, all the emotion washing over her in waves. His arms wrapped around her torso and he pulled her close. Everything that had happened in the last year felt like a lifetime ago — the only thing that mattered was this very moment. The feel of his arms around her and the sound of his heart beating in his chest, that was it.

Pulling her upper body away from his, she stared up at him, “You gave Harry your wand.”

“Well,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “the man’s wand was broken, or so I understand. There was no way he could defeat Voldemort with it or any other replacement.”

Hermione let out a breathy laugh and refused to let go of him. “Why didn’t you leave?”

His forefinger skimmed her jaw and he held her cheek in his hand. “If I fled … I would never get to have a life with you. If I ran, I wouldn’t be able to see you, or love you, or have a future with you.” She understood the words he was saying, but she knew what was going to happen next. It’s only a matter of time before Kingsley enters the courtyard and takes him away. “I just need … I need you to give me a second chance,” he whispered and she almost laughed. “Well, it’s more like a hundred and second chance —”

“I love you,” she cut his sentence off with a quick kiss before continuing, “I love you, and I never stopped.”

“I love you too, ‘Mione,” he chuckled and kissed her again, this time much more thoroughly. “I promise, this is, this is the last time you will ever need to forgive me. I am _never_ going to break your heart again.”

She swallowed back more tears and buried her face into his chest. “After all of this … is fixed, we’re going to start again, okay?”

They were complete oblivious as to the crowd of onlookers that was gathering around them. It _was_ a bizarre sight — a member of Harry Potter’s closest friends wrapped up with a known Death Eater — but no one interrupted their moment. In fact, those who watched and knew of the relationship couldn’t help but smile at the reunion.

No one, except Kingsley Shacklebolt.

He approached them slowly, having already captured the rest of the Death Eaters that hadn’t been able to escape the grounds of Hogwarts fast enough and hoping to give them as much time as possible for a decent goodbye.

“Hermione …”

She looked at Kingsley sadly and begged, “Please, just a few more minutes.”

“No, it’s okay,” Draco said, slowly releasing Hermione’s body.“No, no!” Hermione protested, gripping his hand. “Wait —”

“‘Mione, it’s okay.” Draco nodded, but she shook her head helplessly. “You’re going to focus on fixing the castle and supporting the Weasleys and helping Harry with what happens next. You are not going to worry about me, I’m gonna be fine.” She started crying again during his declaration and she weakly protested as he made her release his hand. Kingsley put the magical handcuffs on his wrists with an apologetic look towards Hermione. “I love you,” Draco half-smiled and she hugged him one more time.

“I love you,” she responded through her tears and let go of him. He, along with the other captured Death Eaters, were led away and finally Apparated from the remains of the Hogwarts castle.

And, like a switch was turned on, it began to rain.

Most of those who had been watching the interaction between Hermione and Draco hurried inside the castle to stay somewhat dry, but Hermione stood in the courtyard and cried while getting soaked with the rainwater as she stared at the spot where Draco had Apparated away.

It rained.

It rained.

And it rained.

**A/N: That is the end of this story, which I lovingly call Part 1 of Hermione and Draco's life together. The sequel titled Where Do We Begin, The Rubble or Our Sins? will have the first chapter posted ** **tomorrow. Thank you for the all the love throughout this journey!**


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